#Flame Prince x Reader

[vikkirosko]

Hiiii! How have you been? What's new in life?^^ 🫶

This time, I request something different....I saw Adventure Time, and I got really excited!! The nostalgia of it!

(Fionna, Marshall Lee, Prince Gumball and Flame Prince) A tall male reader that a gentle soul and a pretty chill one too. Okay, he's a bit older, but it makes him wiser. His power often affects the weather. If he's sad, it's raining. If he's happy, expect a rainbow. If he's chill and calm, it's sunny if he's angry or furious, storm and so on worse. What's would it be like for the characters when they would start dating? Sure, the m/reader would be caring and fun too! He's up for adventure, and there's no hesitation to help out and protect his lover. For example, if they go hurt by an enemy or someone insulted them, m/reader would strike a lighting at the enemy right away.

M/reader is a hard-working person and a mystery one, too. He would sometimes disappear and appear at random times like teleportation(but it's not it). Imagine: The lover is sleeping, and when they wake up, they see gifts from him and a delicious breakfast in bed as well. 😍🤌

-From 🌻Sunflower Anon.

Hi! I'm all good. From the new one... I got an internship for my studies at the editorial office of a local newspaper. And how are you doing? I hope everything is fine

Headcanons Relationships

🐰 Fionna Campbell x male!Reader 🗡

Fionna wasn't very lucky in a romantic relationship. She was unrequitedly in love, and her other relationships ended and it was hard for her after this breakup. That's why when you started dating, she felt a little anxious. She really liked you, but she was afraid of getting burned again. But pretty quickly she realized that you were very different from those she was in love with before

You were a little older than her and initially, when you first met, you seemed quite distant to her, but when she got to know you better, she realized that you were kind, caring and gentle. You were ready to keep her company during the adventure and were ready to protect her if she was in danger. You also took great care of her. In the morning, you often left various gifts in her room or even breakfast practically in bed. Most of the time, at such moments you were no longer in her house, but you always left her nice notes, wishing her a good morning

You had an unusual ability that helped her better understand what emotions you were experiencing. Your emotions influenced the weather at some distance around you. When you were with Fionna, the sun was always shining and there could even be a rainbow in the sky. One day she went to visit you and saw how it was raining. As it turned out, you were upset. The weather seemed to reflect your emotions, and thanks to Fionna, you could see a rainbow in the sky more and more often

Fionna was so happy in a relationship for the first time. You didn't have to come up with any ways to be together or hide your feelings from each other. She was sure that you would be really happy together

🍬 Prince Gumball x male!Reader ⚗️

You and Gumball have known each other for a very long time, even longer than anyone could have imagined. You were a couple and often spent time together. Everyone knew that when there was a clear sky and a rainbow in the sky above Candy Kingdom, it means that today you visited him. Your emotions influenced the weather and you were always happy when you saw him

Sometimes there were quarrels between you because Gumball worked too hard. You were worried about him and often left various small gifts and snacks in his laboratory, hoping that he would get a little distracted. He never heard you come in and you never told him how you came to him so quietly

Several times, when you knew that Gumball had been working non-stop for several days, you tried to convince him to take a break, and because of this you quarreled. At such moments, the weather seemed to go crazy. At first, a strong wind began to blow outside and a thunderstorm began. It meant you were angry. Then you left, realizing that your quarrel would lead to nothing. It usually started to rain heavily at such moments. The only thing that calmed Gumball at least a little was that the rain did not disappear, which means you were somewhere nearby, and soon he was already coming to you to apologize

Gumball was glad that there was a man like you in his life. You could help him when he faced difficult tasks that he could think about for several days, you could protect him in case of danger, you were there when he needed support. He could be calm around you, because he knew that he could always rely on you

🎸 Marshall Lee x male!Reader 🦇

Marshall Lee met you when he was caught in a thunderstorm and hid from it in the woods, where he found you. You were angry and it would seem that the weather didn't bother you at all. When he asked you what you were doing there, he heard something that had been accumulating in you for a long time. The more you talked, the stronger the storm became, until at some point you exhaled, calmed down, and with you the weather calmed down and the sun came out in the sky. That day, you both found a good friend, and later found out that not just a friend, but something more

You were a frequent visitor to his house. Marshall enjoyed spending time with you. You kept him company while he was writing songs, you watched movies together. In the mornings, he often found small gifts in his living room and he found breakfast on the bedside table. Marshall knew that you were the one who left it. You took care of him and he appreciated it

You often accompanied him and were always ready to go on adventures with him. However, if someone insulted him, then your usual calm and relaxation collapsed. You wouldn't let anyone hurt him and you'd get angry if someone insulted him. Marshall easily understood your emotions, because the weather changed from this, but those who did not know you only wondered how sharply a calm, sunny day changed so much

You and Marshall were different. He liked noisy parties and often arranged concerts, while you usually preferred a relaxed atmosphere, but despite this, you felt really happy next to each other. It would seem that everyone knew about this, because it was not so often possible to see a permanent rainbow in the sky before, which now practically screamed about your happiness

🔥 Flame Prince x male!Reader 🎧

Flame Prince has not left the castle for a long time. He grew up locked up and when he finally left the castle he was able to take a deep breath. He wandered around for a long time, trying to cope with his anger, until he came across you. You were surprisingly relaxed and his appearance didn't bother you. Even when he got angry, you weren't scared. On the contrary, you tried to help him calm down. As it turned out later, you perfectly understood what it was like when others could suffer from your emotions, even if you didn't want to

You were able to get along quickly. You taught him to control his emotions and over time he began to notice that when you were around, the weather was just fine. There was not a cloud in the sky and there was a rainbow. When he asked how this was possible, you told him that the reason for this was that your emotions were related to the weather. When you were happy, the sun was shining in the sky and there was a rainbow. You were happy with him. This prompted you to tell him about your feelings. At that moment, he himself seemed ready to start shining

You tried to take care of him. He often found breakfast in his room in the morning, which you left for him, and sometimes you left various gifts. Sometimes it seemed to him that you could teleport, but that wasn't the case. Flame Prince has asked you several times how your other emotions affect the weather. You told him that when you're angry, a storm starts, and when you're upset, it rains, but since the day you met, you've had no reason to be sad. He saw your anger, because you were angry when someone insulted him

You were one of the first people he could trust. You accepted him for who he was, despite the outbursts he had. He was really happy with you. Even if a terrible downpour started outside, he wouldn't be afraid, knowing that you would be there to help him. He was safe with you no matter what

[sorbetisfruity]

Dawg I wish we got to see more of Flame Prince in the genderbent version of Adventure Time:(((

He’s such a cutie I love him:(((((

[ally-writes-many-things]

I fucking Need You (Ruhn Danaan)

Summary: You and Ruhn break up for good after he said things that hurt you to the fire and he begs you to come back.

Words: 2.7k

Requested: Yes

Warnings or A/N: I forgot to add in. He was acting like a dick because his dad was putting pressure on him and he took it out on the wrong person.

"I understand that you're the crown prince, but could you please lend a hand around the house? It shouldn't just be me, Dec, and Flynn doing all the cleaning," you said, tossing one of his shirts on him. "I'm not your maid, I'm your girlfriend,"

Ruhn casually placed the shirt on the chair and replied, "I'll do it later,"

"That's what you always say, but you never do," you retorted.

Turning away from you, Ruhn headed towards the shower. "I said I'll do it later," he repeated.

"Ruhn," you called after him.

He simply waved you off before disappearing behind the bathroom door.

You couldn't help but mutter to yourself, "You've got to be kidding me."

Grabbing your books and bag, you made your way downstairs, where Dec and Flynn were engrossed in a TV show. "Have a good day at class, Tater Tot," Flynn teased.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆

Upon arriving home from work and classes, the house was booming with music. As you entered, you were greeted with the sight of people making out on the couch, and others practically fucking in the corner. Although you didn't mind the boys having parties in their own house and that they could do whatever they pleased, you simply didn't have the energy to join the party all night long, especially after a stressful day at work.

Rolling your eyes, you made your way up the stairs towards the room you shared with Ruhn, but your arm was grasped by his hand. Turning to face Ruhn, you could tell from his glazed eyes and broad smile that he was clearly high. "Where are you going, baby?"

"Upstairs, because I don't want to party tonight,” You calmly replied.

"Yeah, because you're such a fucking bitch," he retorted.

His words struck a chord within you. “I'm a stuck up bitch because I don't want to party one fucking time? I had a long fucking day of work and class,” You questioned, anger filling your veins.

"You're a bitch because all you do is nag and complain," he alleged.

Slightly exasperated, I responded, "I don't want to do this with you at the moment. We can fight in the morning like always,"

"No, let's do it right here," Ruhn insisted, his arms crossed defiantly.

“Really? Here and now? In front of everyone?" I sighed.

"Yes, so that this time everyone will know what happened. You bitch at this morning because I had left a single dirty shirt on the floor," he countered.

"If it were only that one minor thing, I would not have. It's frustrating because you hardly contribute to the household chores, unlike Flynn, Dec, and myself," I argued.

"In that case, maybe you should go to fuck Flynn," he snapped retortedly.

"What?"

"I am the Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae, and I don't need some half-breed bitch telling me what to do in my own house," he callously declared.

That statement shattered what was left of your heart into tiny fragments. "I am done from the same fights, Ruhn. I am done, completely and utterly done. This time, we are over for good. Go fuck that faun who has been lusting after you for the past few months," You screamed in his face.

Maybe I will," he shot back.

"You are free fuck who you please," You yelled back, walking upstairs to gather your belongings.

You didn't have many possessions since you had only recently started fresh when you moved in with Ruhn a few weeks ago. This time, you didn't shed any tears. Over the past few months, you had countless fights and breakups, which were the times that brought you to tears. However, what Ruhn said tonight, referring to you as a "half-breed bitch," was the final straw for you.

You swiftly packed your belongings into your suitcase, forcefully removed the R necklace that Ruhn had given you on your one-year anniversary, and threw it onto the dresser. You didn't care if people stared or whispered as you walked towards the door with your things. Let them talk and say whatever they wanted, because ultimately, it was you who chose to permanently end the relationship with the crown prince.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆

Ruhn woke up to a throbbing headache, regretting his actions once again. As he sat up in bed, he absentmindedly rubbed his forehead and glanced over to your side, only to find that you were not there. This was not unusual, as you always had early morning shifts. Unconcerned, he got out of bed and discarded his clothes on his way to the bathroom for a soothing shower.

Covering his body and hair with soap, he tried to recall the events of the previous night, but it was all a haze. He couldn't remember a single detail, not even if he had seen you come home.

After completing his shower, Ruhn returned to the bedroom, wrapped in a towel. As he approached the dresser, his eyes noticed your broken chain necklace and picked it up. He noticed that all of your belongings on the dresser were missing.

Placing the broken necklace back, he anxiously opened the drawers that belonged to you, only to find them empty. His heart raced. Rushing back to the bathroom, he switched on the light to discover that all traces of your makeup, perfumes, and personal items were gone. Returning to the room, he searched frantically, realizing that every trace of you were gone. In that moment, his heart shattered. You and him must have gotten into a fight last night and a pretty bad one if you took all of your things.

Without wasting any time, he hastily got dressed and dashed downstairs, only to find Dec and Flynn tidying up the aftermath of last night's party. Their eyes remained fixed on their task, refusing to acknowledge his presence. "What happened last night?"

No response followed, so he attempted once more. "All of (Yn)'s belongings are missing."

This time, both Dec and Flynn glanced up but exchanged loaded looks before resuming their cleaning duties. If they were deliberately withholding information from him, then he must have done something horrible. "Guys, please tell me where my girlfriend's things are."

Flynn snickered, and Declan scoffed disdainfully.

"What was that all about?"

Flynn sighed before finally meeting his gaze. "Don't you remember what you said to her last night?" Declan's words dripped with venom.

His heart plummeted to his stomach. If Dec addressed him with such fury, it must have been something awful.

"Do you have any idea how much I want to leap over this couch and beat the shit out of you right now?" Flynn added.

His stomach churned with anxiety. Whatever he had done, it was a really big mistake. Dec and Flynn were fiercely protective of you, ready to defend you against anyone who hurt you. "What did I do?"

"Does 'fucking bitch' and 'half-breed bitch' ring a bell?"

He took a deep breath, struggling to recollect his actions from the previous night. "I didn't call her a half-breed bitch, did I?"

"More like 'I am the Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae, and I don't need some half-breed bitch telling me what to do in my own house.' You fucked up, Danaan," Flynn replied, tossing a red solo cup into the trash bag.

Dec chimed in, picking up another cup and disposing of it. "You also told her that she could go fuck Flynn."

"Yeah, she broke up with you for good. We are done with how you treat her. She is the best thing that has happened to you. All she wants from you is effort in chores. Go and try to fix things with her or we'll move out,” Flynn added.

Ruhn's head throbbed as he attempted to recall the events of the previous night, but the memories escaped him. He couldn't have uttered those words. You being a half-breed was never an issue for Ruhn. He cherished every part of you. It was a part of what made you, you. But in that moment, he had carelessly used something that he knew you struggled with as a weapon to hurt you.

Desperation clawed at his soul as he searched for a way to mend what he had broken. He knew apologies were no longer enough, that actions spoke louder than words.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆

It has been seven days since you ended things with Ruhn once and for all. Despite his relentless texts and visits to your doorstep, you have made a conscious decision to ignore both your phone and the doorbell. Deep down, you understand that giving in to his advances would only lead you back to a place you are determined to move on from. You are committed to holding yourself to a higher standard, no matter how difficult it may be.

The ache was still there in your heart. Ruhn’s words had cut deep within you. He knew just how insecure you are about you being a half-breed.

The memories of the past few months played like a broken record in your mind. The countless times you had separated, just to get back together again, hoping that each time would be different. As you neared the car parking lot from CCU, you spotted Ruhn walking in the opposite direction. "(Name)," you called out, trying to maintain a steady tone.

"What are you doing here, Danaan?" you asked.

"I wanted to apologize for my words," Ruhn replied, his expression reflecting genuine regret.

"I'm not interested in hearing it," you responded, brushing past him and heading towards your car. "I meant what I said last night, unless you were too out of it to remember."

"Flynn and Declan filled me in on what happened. Please, just listen," Ruhn pleaded, reaching out to grab your arm. "I truly am sorry for what I said."

"You used a half-breed bitch against me, knowing how much it would hurt," you retorted. "And now you expect me to forgive you?"

"I was high on Mirthroot, I didn't mean it," Ruhn explained. "Your heritage doesn't matter to me, you know that."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his excuse. It was clear that he didn't understand the depth of your hurt.

“I didn't have the same support system as Bryce. I didn't have a pack of wolves or a Crown Prince looking out for me when I was growing up. I had to face insults from faes and humans alike, constantly being called a worthless half-breed or half-breed whore. And you knew all of this, yet you still used it against me. I don't care if you were high. I've known people who were completely out of it and they never stooped to insulting their friends or loved ones like you did,” you explained, your voice filled with hurt and anger.

"(Name)-"

"No, I've had enough. I have put up with a lot from you, but calling me a half-breed bitch was the last straw," you stated firmly, walking away and leaving Ruhn standing there in silence.

Ruhn ran after you, falling to his knees with tears in his eyes, pleading, "Please, I'm truly sorry, baby.”

You stopped in your tracks, watching Ruhn drop to his knees. A part of you wanted to give in, to forgive him and take him back into your arms. But another part of you held firm, remembering all the hurt and disrespect you had endured.

Taking a deep breath, you faced Ruhn, his desperate gaze locked on you. The tears in his eyes mirrored the ache in your heart.

"Ruhn, I can't do this anymore," you said, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "I can't keep going back and forth with you, hoping things will change. The trust is broken, the respect is gone."

Ruhn's shoulders shook with sobs as he struggled to hold back his tears. "I love you, (Name). I know I've messed up, I know I've hurt you. But please, give me ione last chance. I will do whatever it takes to make things right, to earn back your trust."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity in them. You knew that a part of you still loved him, still hoped for a future with him.

"I'm not sure if I can do this, Ruhn," you whispered before he took your hand and led you through the busy campus.

Eventually, you arrived at a busy gathering area where Ruhn raised his voice to get everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce you to someone," Ruhn declared with a smile. Your heart pounded with anticipation as he turned towards you and proudly announced. "This incredible woman before you is not only the love of my life, but also the most beautiful, kind-hearted, patient, and brilliant individual you will ever meet - (Name) (Last Name). As some of you might know, I said some things last night and they were not a true reflection of my feelings," Ruhn began, his voice steady and sincere. "I want to make it clear that her being a half-breed doesn't negate that. She is my soulmate, my everything, and I vow to make sure she knows that,”

"Ruhn, do you honestly believe this will make a difference? You're speaking to me as if you're delivering a formal address," you remarked.

"You want real?" he asked.

"Yes," you replied.

"Then I'll give it to you," Ruhn said as he knelt before you.

You maintained a steady gaze as Ruhn knelt before you, the onlookers around hoping for something different than what you expected. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air as he spoke. The skepticism that had been building within you seemed to gain more ground with each passing moment. Your instincts told you to brace yourself for what was to come next.

Ruhn's eyes locked with yours as he spoke, his voice steady and sincere. There was a hint of vulnerability in his tone, a crack in the facade that he had carefully constructed. Despite the grand gesture unfolding before you, there was still a lingering doubt in your mind. The onlookers may have hoped for a proposal, but you knew better than that.

"I know I've been acting like an asshole lately, and I'll explain why if you give me a chance to explain that to you in private but I shouldn't have taken it out on the one person who means more to me than anyone else. You've been incredibly patient with me, and I appreciate that. I'm willing to give up partying, even the Mirthroot and the star sword, if it means you'll give me another chance," he declared.

Tears welled up in your eyes as Ruhn poured his heart out in front of everyone, fully aware that someone was likely recording the moment. "You know someone's probably recording this, and your dad is going to be pissed that you mentioned giving up the star sword, especially for a half-breed," you whispered.

"I don't give a fuck. You're the only one that matters to me. This past week has been absolute hell without being able to see you, talk to you, touch you, fuck you. I'd dream of you and wake up, hard as fuck and unable to do anything about it because you weren't there beside me. Everyone thinks you need me, but the truth is, I need you more than you need me. And you fuck me in ways I can't even put into words. I mean, I always come before you anyway," Ruhn confessed.

"Not that you don't fuck me good, because you do. I just fuck you better," you replied.

"You do. Please, give me another chance. I'll be your servant if that's what it takes-”

"I don't want a servant. I want the Ruhn I fell in love with, the one from a few months ago. I want you to be that person again, not this version who doesn't realize the pain he's causing. If you can promise me that you'll go back to being him, then yes, I will take you back," you stated firmly.

Ruhn's face lit up with a smile. "Yes. A thousand times, yes," he declared.

"Then get up and kiss me," you commanded.

Ruhn swiftly rose to his feet, cupped your face in his hands, and kissed you passionately, pouring all his emotions from the past week into the kiss. "Take me home so I can fuck you," you whispered, your lips just inches from his.

[profound-imagination]

Little Witch - Ruhn Danaan - Part 2

A/N: It’s finally here, part two of Little Witch. This part is for @sweetshifter and @sweetshifter only.

T/W: Mentions of torture, nothing too descriptive but it’s there!

W/C: 1.7k

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ruhn was growing frustrated. He had no right to be. He’d caused this, his actions had brought about her silence again but gods how he missed her voice. It didn’t help that he had a sneaking suspicion she spoke freely to the others when he wasn’t around, she spoke to Ithan at the very least if not the others. Smug little Pup.

He couldn’t complain though, she’d stuck by him through every step of his ongoing healing. She tended his wounds, pulled him out of nightmares and cast little balls of light in her hands when the entire room was shrouded in his shadows as a result. She’d wept silently as he and Lidia told their story, wept for her older sister when she learned the truth of Lidia’s life. Lidia in turn had sobbed for her baby sister when she told her own story, casting those starry eyed gazes at him that he’d missed so much when he entered the story. She attended every therapy session with him, the ones she knew about anyway, and held his hand. His silent pillar of strength.

He could hear the thump thump thump of the music blaring through the house as he approached. Flynn must’ve been throwing another party, the guest list was small these days. The three found brothers who were now five if he counted Ithan and Tharion, which he did. Bryce and Hunt. Lidia and his Little Witch. No one heard the door open as he strolled in although he knew Dec knew he was there and approaching the house long before he first heard the music, yes, his brother was that good. He couldn’t help the grin that split his face when he took in the scene in the living room. Bryce perched on Hunt’s lap in the beaten up armchair, Dec with a laptop in one hand, beer in the other, Lidia and Tharion chatting on the sofa. Flynn was dancing on the coffee table, screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs, Ruhn’s Little Witch on his back, arms wrapped around Flynn’s neck, mouthing the lyrics along with him a brilliant smile on her face. “You’re going to drop her, Flynn!” Ithan was hissing from his seat, leant right forward ready to catch her when Flynn did drop her. “No I won’t, Pup! I’m completely in control-“ famous last words as Flynn’s foot slipped and he fell, Y/N let out a scream as she lost her grip on Flynn and a purely Fae protective possessiveness flared through Ruhn.

He snarled at his friend as he caught her, her doe eyes looking up at him, a brilliant smile on her face. “Hi there.” He purred at her and delighted in the colour that flared in her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around his neck in a greeting hug and then untangled herself from him and pulled Flynn to his feet. But Ruhn knew in his bones, in his very soul, that the peace they had found wouldn’t last forever.

Tuesday started like any other day, you’d woken up with Ruhn curled around you like he always was, whether you’d fallen asleep in his bed or yours, you always woke up with his strong arms wrapped around you, your head tucked under his chin, his heat radiating into your back. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t spoken to him again. There was no doubt that you were irrevocably in love with this male but every time you opened your mouth to speak, to maybe tell him, the whole thing flashed through your mind again, the hurt. Losing him. The dress you never got to wear, the ball you never got to go to. Ruhn shifted pulling you from your thoughts and pulling you with him, turning you as he went.

He smiled up at you as you took in his beautiful face. “Good morning, Witchling.” He said, tightening his arms around your waist. You smiled at him and nuzzled your face into his neck. “What have you got planned today?” He asked into your hair, you shrugged in response. “I’m heading out with the guys, we got a tip off on the DreadWolves, Tharion, Ithan and Lidia are following up on one about Pollux, are you gonna be okay here by yourself?” He asked, lifting your head to look at him. You smiled and nodded at him and pointed to his bookshelf, he grinned, “I can’t wait to hear about which one you picked when I get home.”

You’d been pottering around the kitchen having decided to bake, Ruhn had once told you that lemon cake was his favourite, maybe if you couldn’t tell him you could show him how you felt. It was a good idea in theory, but standing in the kitchen covered in flour was proving the opposite, still you persisted. Studying the recipe so hard you almost didn’t hear the front door swing open. No, not swing, bang open. You turned, a sense of dread filling you at what you’d find behind you, still clutching the mixing bowl.

Devastatingly beautiful was the only way to describe Pollux Antonius as he filled the doorway, smiling a lover’s smile at you. “Well, I can see why Princey is keeping you locked away, a perfect mix of your two sisters, beautiful little thing.” He purred. Terror seized your body as he took a step towards you. “Your friends won’t make it back to you in time, Mordoc is giving them the runaround.” He took another step towards you, “Now, be a good girl, don’t run, it’ll only make this worse, don’t fight and I promise you won’t suffer for long.” He grinned. You finally convinced your limbs to unlock and move and you launched the mixing bowl at him and fled the room.

He was on you in two strides and pain lanced through you as he threw you into the wall. All the air left your lungs as you slid down the wall and rallied your power. You could do this, you could control the power, the power didn’t control you. Ruhn had been training you, so had Flynn and Dec, you could do this. “Ah ah ah” Pollux crooned as he knelt in front of you, “None of that nasty raw power of yours, sweetheart.” He sneered as he snapped a pair of cuffs onto your wrists, not Gorsian, no, these were the same cuffs the Witches had used. You screamed as they embedded themselves into your wrists and drained your power from you. “It’s funny how giving the Witches are now they’ve turfed your sister off of her throne.”

He dragged you by the wrists into the garden, your back scraping against the floor, towards the trees and hung you between two of them and began. You screamed until you could scream no more and he talked and talked, spitting his venom, apparently Ruhn had given him nothing but attitude during their time together. You smirked at that. Of course he had. “But you, hurting you,” he crooned, “hurts all of them, Princey, Lidia, the Pup, and when they come back and find you dead it will fracture them all so much their little rebellion will fall apart.” You mustered the little fight you had left and spat at him.

The pain got worse then as he started carving out parts of you. “I wonder if I cut out enough if I’ll find the source of the raw power you possess, take it for myself.” He asked as he brought his dagger to his mouth and licked the blood from the blade. You blocked him out then, his words and his ministrations. Ruhn, you thought of Ruhn. Of his kindness, his smile, his persistence! He never gave up on you, not once, he was still there, still fighting for your words, words you never gave him and now you never would. Blackness started creeping in the edges of your vision. Ruhn, Ruhn, Ruhn.

There was nothing but endless blackness and pain. Was this death? Was there really no peace? “Baby, no! Please, please come back!” Ruhn? You span, searching for him but he was nowhere. “Little Witch, can you hear me? Please come back, don’t leave me! You don’t get to leave me!” Was he crying? You could hear other things as well now, a wolf was howling, Ithan, that was Ithan. Flynn was shouting. “Shock her again!” Tharion, that was Tharion, “Hunt! Shock her again!” “I can’t! Not with Ruhn there!” A snarl, that was unmistakably Ruhn. “All of you move!” Declan. “Baby please wake up!”

You weren’t going to wake up, you were sure of it. “Goodbye Ruhn, I love you.” You weren’t sure how his mind speaking worked, he’d never tried it again after it had terrified you that first time. Then there was a primal roaring in your head. “No! You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to say goodbye, that love you me like this! You wake up and tell me that!” Ruhn growled into your head. “Hunt, shock her again, I’ll move.” Pain splintered through you as he let you go.

You gasped as your eyes flew open and your lungs burned. There was so much pain running through your body. Declan was knelt next to you, his healing magic working the best it could on the cuffs he was trying desperately to remove. Ithan sat at your back, supporting you, keeping you upright. Then there was Ruhn. “Don’t you ever scare us like that again!” He growled as he ran his hands through his hair. Blood, he was covered in blood, as if reading your thoughts he said “He’s gone, he’s dead, he won’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.” Lidia knelt next to Ruhn, “I’m so sorry, Y/N, this is all my fault.” It almost killed you to move your arm to grasp your sisters hand but you did it anyway and gave her a weak smile before looking back to Ruhn.

“I love you, you big idiot.” You croaked, and his face shuttered, fresh tears fell down his face. “I love you too, Little Witch.” You smiled at him weakly, “Let’s get you inside and healed up, then you can tell me about how much you love me.” He grinned down at you. You reached up with the hand that wasn’t holding Lidia’s and wiped his tears away, “Okay, Ruhn.”

[captainsophiestark]

Nosy Best Friends

Tristan Flynn x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Based on this request from Anon! It was very fun to write and it gave me a second, related idea that I'm planning to post Monday, so thanks for sending it in! Hope you like it!

Fandom: Crescent City

Summary: Flynn's been disappearing a lot to spend time with his human girlfriend, and his friends have decided to finally figure out where he's been going.

Word Count: 2,219

Category: Fluff, Humor, maybe a tiny bit of Angst? But not really

A/N: This fic also has a prequel called Presentation Problems and a sequel called The Best Night Ever, but can also be read on its own!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Ruhn's POV

"Where the Hel are you going?"

Flynn barely stopped at the sound of my voice, half-turning back with an irritated look. I gave him the same one right back.

"I'm going out. Why do you care?"

"You've been disappearing doing Urd knows what for weeks. Come on, Flynn, what's going on?"

Flynn just rolled his eyes. "Nothing, mom. Just relax and mind your own business."

He turned on his heel and walked out the door without looking back. I watched him go, then turned to Dec on the couch.

"Something's going on with him."

"Yeah. Think it's time we do something about it?"

"Definitely."

****************

Y/N's POV

I sighed, rubbing my eyes as I tried to reread what I'd written for the thousandth time. I'd been holed up in my apartment for almost forty-eight hours straight working on a paper for grad school, and I'd started to go a little crazy.

The only reason I hadn't gone crazy about twenty hours ago was my boyfriend, Tristan Flynn. He'd been keeping me company, providing a stream of encouragement and my favorite snacks and helping me take a break when I really needed it, even if I wouldn't admit it. He'd left a couple hours ago to go do something he needed to do, and I'd come very close to hurling my laptop at the wall in his absence.

We'd first met in a similar situation, when I'd hurled my notebook across what I'd thought was an empty classroom. Flynn had been looking for somebody the Aux had followed to campus, and only his fae reflexes had kept him from taking my notebook to his head. If I hadn't been stressed out of my mind already, I would've been worried about having accidentally attacked a member of the fae Aux, especially as a human, but I'd hit my limit that day, so instead I'd shouted at him for interrupting my studying.

Luckily for both of us, once he'd recovered from his shock, he'd seemed to be into that. He'd tried to get me to leave for safety reasons, and I'd refused, so he'd stayed. We ended up hitting it off the bat, and the rest was history.

We'd been together for a few months now, and despite every warning I'd ever heard against dating a member of the Vanir, it was quite honestly the best relationship I'd ever been in. We hadn't told anyone else in our lives yet, mostly because we didn't want our little bubble of happiness being burst, but I had a hard time believing anything could ruin what we'd found together.

The few seconds I'd spent losing myself in memories had been nice, but the glaring light of my laptop screen didn't let me escape for long. I sighed heavily, trying to decide whether it was worth it to power through. I didn't entirely have a choice, unless I wanted to drop out of grad school, but maybe I could find something to do as a small break.

Somebody must have been listening to my silent pleas, because a moment later my phone rang. I smiled when Flynn's face popped up, a terrible picture of him that I'd taken when he wasn't ready. He always switched it back to a shirtless one he'd taken himself when he got the opportunity, and it had become a little silent war between us.

"You have amazing timing," I sighed as soon as I picked up. I could hear his smile through the other end of the phone.

"I always do. Come downstairs."

"...You know I shouldn't. This paper-"

"Is something you've been holed up in that apartment working on for way too long. You're driving yourself insane, and last I checked, you can't turn in anything if you smash your laptop to pieces against the wall. Besides, humans need sunlight. And fresh air."

"An expert on that, are you?"

"I sure am," his voice purred over the phone and I rolled my eyes, but I also felt heat rising on my cheeks. "Just come down here, and I'll show you how much of an expert I am."

I let out a long breath through my nose. Flynn was right. Sitting in this apartment driving myself insane wasn't helping anything. And besides, I really wanted to go spend time with him.

"Alright. I'm on my way."

"Good. I'll see you in a second."

****************

Ruhn's POV

"What in Hel is he doing here?" I hissed to Dec, trying to keep my voice down. We'd tailed Flynn to some apartment complex not far from the college we'd chased some monster down at not long ago.

"I don't know..." said Dec. "Maybe he's got a lead on something for the case? Or a new case, related to all that shit we dealt with last time?"

"You think Flynn's spending his time off work doing more work?"

I shot Dec a look, and he snorted.

"Okay, you're right. It's probably not that."

We turned back to watch Flynn, who had a full bouquet of flowers in his hands. He'd put on the nicest clothes he owned, and if I didn't know better, I would've thought-

"Oh! Tristan, holy shit!"

Dec and I stared wide-eyed as a human female came out of the apartment building, absolutely beaming at Flynn. She ran to him and jumped in his arms, hugging him tight, as he picked her up and spun her around. He kissed her, and when they pulled apart they stayed close, forehead to forehead, just staring at each other lovingly, something I'd never seen Flynn do with a female. I glanced at Dec to find him looking just as shocked as me, and when I turned back to find Flynn practically floating looking at the girl in front of him, I couldn't help my surprised shout.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

****************

Y/N's POV

Tristan and I whirled around in sync at the sound of a loud shout from across the street. I found two fae males staring at us, looking absolutely outraged, and I started to get a little worried until my boyfriend shouted back.

"What the FUCK are you two doing here?"

"I take it you know them?" I asked, turning to Flynn and keeping my voice low. He shook his head, but the irritation in his eyes faded the second he looked at me.

'Yeah, sweetheart, I do. They're my roommates and my friends from the Aux. And they're absolute idiots."

I turned to find the idiots in question storming across the street and towards us, shouting at cars that almost hit them in the process. Unconsciously, I took a half step towards Flynn, and he immediately wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him.

Not a moment too soon. His friends finally made it across traffic to come to a stop in front of us, and my jaw literally almost hit the floor when I realized one of them was the Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae.

"What the Hel are you doing?" demanded the prince before turning to me. "And who is this?"

"I'm his girlfriend," I snapped, not quite able to stop myself. Both newcomers stared at me in wide-eyed shock, then whirled on their friend.

"Your what?"

"My girlfriend," Flynn said, an edge of steel in his voice that I'd only heard once or twice, usually in relation to Aux business.

The fae before us shared an absolutely shocked look, then whirled back around to look at Flynn.

"Why the Hel didn't you tell us?"

"Is that where you've been sneaking off to every day for the last few months?"

"What the fuck, Flynn?"

They shouted their questions at Flynn in sync, then without waiting for my boyfriend to get ahold of himself enough to answer, the one I didn't recognize turned to me with an apologetic smile.

"I'm Declan," he said, holding out a hand for me to shake. I stared at it for a minute, then slowly took it. "It's nice to meet you."

"...Nice to meet you, too."

"Ruhn. Also nice to meet you," said the prince with a chin nod of a hello in my direction. Then, he turned back to Flynn. "You know everybody's gonna lose it when they realize you've been keeping a steady girlfriend a secret from us, right?"

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Bunch of Aux members, a spy, and Bryce, it's your own fault for not figuring it out sooner. You should be better at your jobs than this."

Ruhn and Declan's mouths dropped open, and I laughed. I could see them getting ready for a comeback, so I stepped even closer to Flynn and fixed the other two fae with a bright smile.

"It's been nice to get to meet some of Tristan's friends, and I'm sure I'll see you both again soon. But right now, I was promised a break from my term paper by my wonderful boyfriend, and I don't intend to let anything get in the way of that."

"I'd listen if I were you," said Flynn, a massive smile on his face as he looked at me with the most lovesick expression I'd ever seen. It made my heart melt. "We met because she almost clocked me in the head with a notebook for interrupting her study session."

"Well technically I threw the notebook before you came in. And then I yelled at you for interrupting."

"Are you trying to say you wouldn't have thrown the notebook at my head anyway if it'd still been in your hands?"

"...No, I probably would've."

"I know. And I love it." He grinned, leaning in for a heated kiss. It still took my breath away, kissing him, even though it'd been a few months now, and he pulled away far too soon for my liking. "What do you say we get the Hel out of here for your distraction?"

"I say Hel yeah, let's go."

He gave me one last quick peck, then pulled back with a wink. His arm stayed wrapped around my waist as we turned to head off to whatever surprise he had planned, not bothering to spare more than a nod at his absolutely stunned friends.

"You get the weekend, Flynn!" one of them called after us. "And then we're having a party and getting to know this female you're so head over heels for!"

"Sure!" Flynn said, calling back over my head. "As long as she decides she actually wants to meet you!"

I snorted, and when I looked at Flynn I found a beaming smile on his face as we walked down the street together. He held out the hand that wasn't around my waist, finally presenting me with the gorgeous bouquet he'd first shown up with.

"For you."

"Thanks, Tris." I took the flowers and leaned into him, and we continued in comfortable silence for a moment. Then Flynn cleared his throat.

"So, do you... uh, do you want to meet them? My friends and everybody?"

"Well, that depends a little bit... why were they so shocked? Was it because I'm human?"

"No." Flynn's response was immediate, and he stopped dead in his tracks to turn me to face him. He put both hands on my shoulders, his warm brown eyes finding mine. "I would never voluntarily spend time with people who felt or thought that way."

"Okay... then why did they seem so surprised to see you with somebody?"

He grimaced. "You... might be the first serious girlfriend I've had. Ever."

My eyebrows shot up, and my heart skipped a few beats.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think my record before this was... seeing the same female for two weeks? Maybe?"

I couldn't help barking a laugh, and Flynn grimaced again. My heart, on the other hand, was soaring as I reached up to gently cup his cheek.

"Well, I guess I can see why your friends were so surprised then. I'd be happy to meet them. And I'm honored to be the first female you've decided to stick around for."

He grinned at me, making my heart race even faster, then slowly leaned in until our lips were just a hair's breadth away.

"I'm honored to be a fae male you're willing to date. Based on what another friend has told me, a human like you wouldn't be willing to give just any of us a chance."

I snorted. "Yeah, no kidding. But I'm glad I gave you one."

"Me too."

I gave Flynn a little smirk, then leaned in to close the rest of the distance between us. He wasted no time kissing me back, hard, and we quickly deepened the kiss. I let my one free hand wander up to tangle in his hair, and I was ready to lose myself in him right then and there, but after a few long moments he gently pulled back.

"As much as I'd like to continue this... I think you'll really like the surprise break I have planned."

I smiled, going in for one last quick kiss, then pulling all the way back.

"Alright. Let's go. As long as we can continue this after I finish my assignments?"

"If I ever say no to that, you should be concerned."

I laughed as we headed off down the street together again, hand in hand. I still had many hovering stressors, from school to finally meeting Flynn's extended friend group, but I knew I'd have him with me for all of it. I was starting to get the feeling he was in it for the long haul, and even though that brought plenty of challenges, I couldn't help being excited for it all the same.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[cambion-companion]

What do you think Aemond’s turn ons are? And kinks, if any? Favourite body part on his spouse? Is he a tits, ass or leg man? And where do his hands/gaze typically tend to fall when having sex?

18+|Smut

Ohwow I just woke up this is a wonderful thing to wake up to!

Aemond's turn ons: honestly, he'd be turned on by a keen mind capable of independent thought. He'd be turned on by someone who wants to know him and who empathizes and validates him. On a more physical level, Aemond loves neck kisses. He'd never admit it out loud but when you sneak a kiss to his throat it makes his breath hitch. When you tug on his hair it drives him wild.

Kinks: I headcanon him as having a breeding kink for sure, as well as a breastfeeding kink, as my fics have definitely shown in lurid detail 🤣 as such, he loves your breasts, how they fill his hands and mouth so nicely with their soft warmth. He loves watching them bounce as he fucks into you.

His grasp usually is at your waist or holding your legs apart, his fingers digging into your thighs.

Aemond's eye roves all over your body during the intimate act, though he favors watching your face, your furrowed brow and parted lips as he takes you.

Aemond is also a leg man so to speak. He is especially fond of your thighs and will spend many minutes sucking torturous kisses to the tender flesh at the inside of your thighs, only brushing his nose lightly against where you need his most. He wouldn't put up a fight however if you tugged at his silken hair, guiding him up against your heat.

[andrealvsbooks]

Demons

Who is Lizbeth Potter really?

That's a question that gnaws at Lizbeth herself. All her life she has felt strange as if a piece of her life was missing, when at last it seemed that the moment of answers would come, everything seems to get worse.

What seemed like a simple tournament in which she would also see her boyfriend Peter Pevensie again, becomes her biggest problem while she deals with new powers, a new identity as hated as the girl who survived and lies.

Have I mentioned yet that she now has a voice in her mind that says it's her dragon pestering her all the time?

Yes, Lizbeth Potter's luck couldn't get any worse.

English isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes or things that look weird please tell me so I can fix them.

Chapter 1

POV Lizbeth

It's been two days since the Quidditch World Cup. Death Eaters showed up, and someone conjured the Dark Mark, which caused chaos that still feels fresh in my mind. After the train ride back to Hogwarts and receiving a letter from Sirius, I am now sitting in the Great Dining Hall, next to Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, my best friends, waiting for Dumbledore's welcome speech. Apparently, he has a very important announcement to give us.

Oh, I almost forgot: I haven't introduced myself. My name is Lizbeth Potter, I'm 14 years old, and although I'm just beginning to discover the extent of my powers, I already have a story to tell. I have a boyfriend named Peter Pevensie, whom I met in the Muggle world. He told me about a magical place called Narnia, and I confessed to him that I was a witch. We spent a lot of time together, but one day, he and his brothers just… disappeared. It was as if they had evaporated, as if no one but me remembered that they ever existed. Ever since then, I've been searching for answers.

When I returned to Hogwarts after that summer without Peter, I became obsessed with understanding what had happened to him. Eventually, I discovered that his disappearance was part of his return to Narnia. Now I wait patiently for the day when I can see him again. Because, after all, if magic allowed me to remember him, doesn't that mean we will meet again someday?

-Well, now that you are all seated I have some announcements to make: Mr. Filch the janitor has asked me to remind you that you are not allowed to do magic in the corridors, I also remind you that the forbidden forest is absolutely forbidden for all the students as well as the first and second year students are forbidden to go to Hogsmeade -Filch entered and approached Dumbledore, As I was saying - he continued, smiling at the crowd of students in front of him- we have the honor of hosting an exciting event that will take place over the next few months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It gives me great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will take place at Hogwarts this term.

-He's staying with us! -said Fred in a loud voice. Almost everyone laughed, and so did Dumbledore, as if appreciating Fred's intervention. -I'm not staying with anyone, Mr. Weasley -he replied, -although, speaking of staying with people, I was told a really good joke this summer about a troll, a witch, and a leprechaun walking into a bar… Professor McGonagall cleared her throat noisily. -Eh… Well, perhaps this is not the most appropriate moment…. No, it's true -said Dumbledore- Where was it? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament! Well, some of you probably don't know what the Triwizard Tournament is, so I hope those of you who do will forgive me for giving a brief explanation while you think of something else. The Triwizard Tournament originated about seven hundred years ago, and was created as a friendly competition between the three most important schools of magic in Europe: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. A champion was chosen to represent each of these schools, and the three champions participated in three magical trials. The schools took turns hosting the Tournament, which took place every five years, and was considered an excellent way to establish ties between young wizards and witches of different nationalities as well as to invite rulers from one of the worlds around us… until the number of deaths grew so high that they decided to discontinue the tournament.

-The number of deaths? -Hermione whispered, a little frightened.

But most of the students in the Great Hall didn't seem to share that fear: many of them whispered excitedly, and even I was more interested in hearing more about the Tournament than worrying about deaths that had occurred over a hundred years ago.

-In all this time there have been several attempts to hold the Tournament again -Dumbledore continued -none of which were very successful. However, our departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Sports and Games have decided that now is a good time to try again. We have worked flat out this summer to make sure that this time no champion is in mortal danger.

I'm going to try it! -said Fred Weasley, his face lighting up with excitement at the prospect of such glory and riches. He must not have been the only one who was imagining himself as Hogwarts champion. At every table, I saw students looking at Dumbledore with rapturous expressions, or whispering to their neighbors in utter excitement. But Dumbledore spoke again, and the Great Dining Hall fell silent once more. -Although I imagine you are all eager to take home the Triwizard Tournament Cup -he said -the Headmasters of the three participating schools, in agreement with the Ministry of Magic, have decided to place an age restriction on this year's contestants. Only students who are of the required age (seventeen years of age or older) will be allowed to propose themselves for consideration. This -Dumbledore raised his voice slightly as some people made noises of protest in response to his last words, especially the Weasley twins, who seemed suddenly furious- is a measure we deem necessary since the tasks of the Tournament will be difficult and dangerous, no matter how many precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below the sixth and seventh years will be able to cope with them. I will personally make sure that no student under that age cheats our impartial judge to become Hogwarts champion -His light blue eyes sparkled especially brightly as he winked at Fred and George's faces, which showed an expression of defiance. So, please don't waste your time introducing yourselves if you are under seventeen. Now without further ado, let the Beauxbatons students enter!

Suddenly, the huge doors of the Great Hall opened with a solemn echo, and the murmur of students faded into an expectant silence. In walked a group of girls in elegant sky-blue uniforms, their cloaks billowing softly as they passed, as if a mysterious wind were surrounding them. Each of them moved with impeccable grace and amazing synchronization, performing a delicate and harmonious dance that caught everyone's attention. Their movements were smooth, and each gesture carefully calculated. It was impossible to look away. As the show progressed, I could see some of the students begin to blush, enraptured. Ron, in particular, was completely mesmerized, his cheeks taking on a bright red color that went unnoticed by anyone. Hermione, the twins and I couldn't hold back a laugh at his expression, a mixture of admiration and rapture that made him seem completely oblivious to our surroundings.

When the students finished their presentation, a huge woman appeared behind them and started walking towards Dumbledore. In all my life I had only ever seen one person as gigantic as that woman, and that was Hagrid. It seemed to me that they were exactly the same height, but even so (and maybe because I was used to Hagrid) that woman seemed even bigger. Taking a few steps, she stepped fully into the area illuminated by the dining room light, and it revealed a beautiful face with dark skin, large black crystalline eyes, and a sharp nose. She wore her hair tied back at the base of her neck in a shiny bun. Her robes were black satin, and a multitude of opal beads glittered around her throat and on her thick fingers. Dumbledore began to applaud. The students, imitating their headmaster, clapped as well, many of them standing on tiptoe to get a better look at the woman. Smiling graciously, she advanced toward Dumbledore and extended a glistening hand. Though Dumbledore was tall, he barely had to bend down to kiss it. -My dear Madame Maxime -he said -welcome to Hogwarts. -Dumbledog -Madame Maxime replied, her voice deep- I hope you are well. -In excellent form, thank you -Dumbledore replied.

Without another word Dumbledore directed the Beauxbatons students to sit at the Ravenclaw table while Madame Maxime sat at one of the free seats at the teachers' table. -Now, our friends from the north, let us welcome the proud students of Dumstrangs and their headmaster Igor Karkarov - said Dumbledore. For the second time, the doors of the Great Dining Hall opened, and this time they revealed a group of burly, imposing-looking young men. They were tall, with serious faces and intense gazes, and they moved forward in an intimidating line. Every step they took echoed off the ground, and with calculated movements, they tapped their staffs in unison. In perfect synchronization, they traced figures in the air with flames that seemed to emanate from their staffs, forming orange and golden sparkles that illuminated their faces and gave the place an almost mystical aura. Leading them was a man of sinister bearing, who wore on his shoulders a cloak of singular skin, smooth and of a silvery tone that reflected the light as if it were made of pure metal. His hair, of the same silver hue, fell in an orderly fashion.

-Dumbledore! -he shouted effusively as he climbed the slope- How are you, my old companion, how are you? -Splendidly, thank you, Professor Karkarov! -Dumbledore replied. Karkarov had a pasty, affected voice. He was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (which ended in a small curl) did not quite conceal his weakly pronounced chin. Arriving before Dumbledore, he shook hands with him. -Old Hogwarts -he said, looking up at the dining room ceiling and smiling. His teeth were quite yellow, and notice that the smile did not include his eyes, which kept their cunning, cold expression- It's great to be here, it's great….. As the Durmstrang students made their way to the Slytherin table at Dumbledore's direction, we saw a boy, with his nose, prominent and curved, and thick black eyebrows. To recognize that profile I didn't need Ron's punch in the arm, nor did I need him whispering in my ear:

-It's Krum! I don't believe it! -Ron exclaimed in amazement- Krum, Lizzie! It's Viktor Krum! -Ron, for God's sake, he's just a quidditch player! -said Hermione. -Nothing more than a quidditch player? -He's one of the best seekers in the world, Hermione! I never would have guessed he still went to school! Before Ron could express his excitement any further, Dumbledore spoke again, causing the dining hall to fall silent again.

-And finally, we welcome the rulers of one of the many worlds that exist. This year we have the pleasure of welcoming the kings and queens of Narnia.

What?

The doors to the Great Hall slowly opened, and an imposing figure filled the doorway. A huge lion with golden fur and deep, serene eyes walked in with calm, confident strides. Following him, in an elegant formation, came Peter, Lucy, Susan, Edmund, and a taller young man with a noble bearing and dark hair I didn't recognize. Awe and excitement made me grip Hermione's hand, who seemed quite curious.

As they reached the front of the Great Hall, the lion stopped in front of Dumbledore. The headmaster greeted him with a smile.

—Aslan, old friend —Dumbledore said, bowing his head slightly in respect.

—Albus, it's good to see you again —the lion replied, his deep voice leaving us all astonished.

An absolute silence took hold of the room. Students and professors were stunned until Fred and George broke the tension.

—The lion... —Fred whispered in amazement.

—He spoke! —George added.

—Awesome! —they both exclaimed in unison, prompting some laughter among the students.

With a playful expression, Dumbledore looked at everyone and introduced:

—Dear students, it is an honor to present the kings and queens of Narnia: Queen Susan, Queen Lucy, King Peter, King Edmund, and King Caspian. They all come from a world called Narnia, filled with magic and adventures.

Following Dumbledore's lead, the kings made their way to the Gryffindor table, while Aslan walked toward the professors' table. I suspected he might be another judge for the Triwizard Tournament.

Fred and George, ever curious, quickly approached the newcomers.

—Hello, kings... —Fred said with a playful grin.

—And queens —George added with a slight bow.

—We’re the Weasley twins, and we welcome you to Gryffindor —they both said proudly.

Peter smiled and nodded formally.

—It's a pleasure to meet you, Fred and George.

The twins laughed, giving him a light pat on the shoulder.

—No need for so much formality, okay? —Fred said, winking—. Here in Gryffindor, we consider ourselves the lions of Hogwarts. We’re brave and loyal, and besides, the Potter family has always been in this house —he added with a proud smile.

I shot him a mildly annoyed glance at the mention of my last name, while Susan looked on with curiosity.

—Potter family? —she asked, intrigued.

—Yeah, yeah —George said, pointing at me—. Lizbeth Lilian Potter, our friend since day one. Come on, we’ll introduce you to her. We’ll tell you how she saved the Philosopher’s Stone, defeated a basilisk, and rescued her godfather.

As the Narnian kings approached, Lucy stepped forward and hugged me warmly.

—Lizzie! —she exclaimed with a big smile.

—Lucy! —I replied, wrapping her in an equally excited embrace.

Hermione watched the scene with a furrowed brow, clearly confused.

—Do you know each other? —she asked, looking at Lucy and then at me.

—Well... —I started to say, noticing Peter taking a seat next to me. With a calm smile, he took my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, giving me the courage to continue—. We met in the Muggle world when Peter and his siblings moved near the Dursleys' house. At first, we were just friends, but over time, something more developed —I added, smiling—. Peter and I have been together for almost two years.

A murmur of surprise swept across the table. Just then, the food appeared on the tables, distracting everyone’s attention. As we ate, the conversation shifted to the Triwizard Tournament. When dinner ended, Dumbledore stood up again and walked over to a brown box next to the professors' table, capturing our attention once more.

—Your attention, please, I would like to say a few words —he said, standing next to the box—. Eternal glory awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament, but to achieve it, they must survive three dangerous tasks...

But at that moment, a deafening thunderclap rang out, and the doors of the Great Hall flew open. A man appeared in the doorway, leaning on a long staff and draped in a traveling cloak.

All heads in the Great Hall turned to observe the stranger, suddenly illuminated by a flash of lightning that lit up the ceiling. He pulled down his hood, shaking out a long mane of hair that was part gray and part black, and walked toward the professors' table. A dull thud echoed with each of his steps across the Great Hall. He reached one end of the professors' table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning illuminated the room. Hermione stifled a gasp.

That light highlighted the man’s face, and it was a face very different from any I had seen in my life. It looked as though it had been carved from a piece of wood worn by time and rain, by someone who had no idea what human faces looked like and who was also not very skilled with a chisel. Every inch of his skin appeared scarred. His mouth was like a slash at an angle, and a large chunk was missing from his nose. But what made him truly terrifying were his eyes. One was small, dark, and shiny. The other was large, round like a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye moved constantly, never blinking, darting up and down, side to side, completely independent of the normal eye... and then it would turn white, as if looking inside the man’s head.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He extended a hand as roughly formed as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, murmuring words we couldn't hear. He seemed to be asking the stranger questions, who shook his head, remaining unsmiling, and answered in a very low voice. Dumbledore nodded as well and gestured for the man to take the empty seat to his right. The stranger sat down and shook his mane to get the gray hair off his face; he reached for a plate of sausages, lifted it to what remained of his nose, and sniffed it. Then he took out a small knife from his pocket, poked one of the sausages at one end, and began to eat it. His normal eye was fixed on the sausage, but the blue one continued darting back and forth without pause, moving in its socket, focusing both on the Great Hall and the students.

—I present to you our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher —Dumbledore said cheerfully, as the room fell silent—. Professor Moody.

Normally, new teachers would be met with cheers and applause, but this time no one clapped, neither the professors nor the students, except for Hagrid and Dumbledore. The sound of their hands clapping resonated so sadly in the silence that they quickly stopped. Everyone else seemed too stunned by Moody's strange appearance to do anything but stare.

—Moody? —I whispered to Ron—. Mad-Eye Moody? The Auror?

—It must be him —Ron said, sounding scared.

—What happened to him? —Hermione asked in a very low voice—. What happened to his face?

—I don't know —Ron replied, watching Moody with fascination.

Moody seemed completely indifferent to this cold reception. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he rummaged again in his traveling cloak, pulled out a flask, and took a long swig from its contents. As he lifted his arm to drink, the cloak lifted a few inches off the ground, and I saw, from under the table, part of a wooden leg ending in a claw.

Dumbledore cleared his throat again.

—... just to clarify the procedure we will be following. But first, for those of you who don't know them, allow me to introduce Mr. Bartemius Crouch, director of the Department of International Magical Cooperation —there was a hint of polite applause—, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, director of the Department of Magical Games and Sports— They applauded much more for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps due to his fame as a Quidditch Beater, or perhaps simply because he looked much friendlier. Bagman acknowledged the applause with a jovial wave of his hand, while Bartemius Crouch neither waved nor smiled when presented. Remembering him in his immaculate suit at the Quidditch World Cup, Harry thought the wizard’s robe didn’t suit him. His bristle mustache and the straight part in his hair looked very odd next to Dumbledore’s long, white hair and beard—. Messrs. Bagman and Crouch have been working tirelessly over the past few months on preparations for the Triwizard Tournament —Dumbledore continued—, and they will be with me, along with Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and His Majesty, Aslan, on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts.

At the mention of the word "champions," the students' attention increased even more, dispelling the tension that Moody's entrance had caused. Perhaps Dumbledore sensed the sudden silence because he smiled as he said: —Mr. Filch, if you would be so kind as to bring the chest...

Filch, who had gone unnoticed but was paying attention in a corner of the Great Hall, approached Dumbledore with a large wooden box studded with jewels. It looked extraordinarily old. Murmurs of interest and excitement rose among the students. Dennis Creevey stood on his chair to see better, but he was so small that his head barely popped above the others.

—Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman have already examined the instructions for the trials that the champions will have to face —Dumbledore said as Filch carefully placed the chest on the table in front of him—, and they have arranged all the necessary preparations for them. There will be three trials, spaced throughout the school year, that will measure the champions in many different aspects: their magical abilities, their daring, their deductive skills, and, of course, their ability to face danger. At the mention of this last word, an absolute silence fell over the Great Hall, and no one seemed to breathe.

—As you all know, three champions compete in the Tournament —Dumbledore continued calmly—, one from each participating school. The perfection with which they carry out each of the trials will be scored, and the champion who has obtained the highest score after the third task will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial judge: the Goblet of Fire.

Dumbledore took out his wand and tapped it three times on the top of the chest. The lid slowly creaked open. Dumbledore reached in to pull out a large chalice, roughly carved from wood. It wouldn't have drawn attention if it weren't for the trembling bluish-white flames that filled it to the brim. Dumbledore closed the chest and carefully placed the chalice on top so that everyone present could see it well.

—Anyone who wants to volunteer as a champion must write their name and the name of their school on a piece of parchment in clear handwriting and toss it into the chalice —Dumbledore explained—. The aspiring champions have four days to do this. Then, on Halloween night, the chalice will give us the names of the three champions it deems most worthy to represent their schools. Tonight, the chalice will be displayed in the entrance hall, accessible to all those who wish to compete. To ensure that no underage student succumbs to temptation —Dumbledore continued—, I will draw an age line around the Goblet of Fire once we have placed it in the entrance hall. No one under the age of seventeen will be able to cross the line. Lastly, I want to emphasize to all who are thinking of competing that careful consideration must be given before entering the Tournament. When the Goblet of Fire has selected a champion, he or she will be obliged to continue in the Tournament until the end. By putting your name in the Goblet of Fire, you are signing a binding magical contract. Once turned into a champion, no one can back out. So you must be very sure before offering your candidacy. And now it seems to me that it is time to go to bed. Good night, everyone.

As we all stood up, I took Peter's hand and quickly led him to a more secluded corner of the hallway. Without thinking twice, I hugged him tightly.

—I’ve missed you so much, Peter. I’m glad you’re here —I whispered without pulling away from him.

—I’ve missed you too, Beth, more than you can imagine. I love Narnia, but… by Aslan, I’ve never missed anyone so much —he replied. Hearing him call me by that nickname he only used filled me with warmth.

—How have you been? I can’t wait for you to tell me everything…

But before I could continue, Susan appeared with a soft smile.

—I’m sorry to interrupt, but Aslan wants to talk to us, Peter. It’s great to see you again, Lizzie.

—Su! I’m excited to see you too —I exclaimed, happy. I had forged a good friendship with her during the summers at the Dursleys' house.

—I’ll see you later, okay? —Peter said, though it was clear he wasn’t very happy to have to interrupt our conversation.

—Sure, don’t worry. Besides, I have to go show a new girl around the castle. We have the whole year to catch up —I replied, smiling as I caressed his hands.

We said goodbye with one last exchange of glances, and I headed off to find Professor McGonagall for instructions on where to find the new student. As I walked, I thought about how promising this fourth year looked.

[arsontisticallyinfernal]

WoF headcanons? Winter x Gender Nuetral Silkwing reader?

ɢ𝜚𝓷ⅇⲅ𝖺𝒍 Ԝⅰ𝔫𝔱𝞎𝙧 𝘳ⅇ𝙡𝙖𝗍𝗶𝝾𝕟𝚜Ꮒ𝔦𝖕 ｈ𝐜

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ/ᴛᴀɢꜱ: ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴍɪɴᴏʀ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, 2ɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ 3ʀᴅ ᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟꜱ, ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴜɴʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜʏ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ

ᴛᴀʀɢᴇᴛ: ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏꜰ

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ: ʏᴏᴜ/ʏᴏᴜʀ/ᴛʜᴇʏ/ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ɢɴ, ꜱɪʟᴋᴡɪɴɢ

ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ <3

To start it off, you two probably met during arc 3 when Pantalans went to Pyrrhia for safety and cover. You most likely were a servant to one of the ladies of the hives and served her until you evacuated.

You were one of the first there, greeted by Moon, Qibli and Tsunami.

Along the way you would've most likely have met Luna, and got a bit close.

You met Winter when he was visiting Moon and Qibli, holding a small reading monkey alongside himself in his talons. This interested you, as a worker in the hives, you never really got to see a reading monkey, or what they call it, a scavenger.

You began asking him questions about the scavenger, growing more and more curious about the tiny creatures. He was very on guard at the moment and didn't trust you, but you didn't blame him, you came from another island.

When the chosen group of saviors left for Pantala, you stayed behind, volunteering to help out Winter in Sanctuary.

He grew to enjoy your company after a while of being against it.

Soon enough he grew a crush on you.

Did he have a thing for other tribe dragons? First Moon, then Qibli, now you?

You couldn't lie, it was nice hanging around him, you are there for his ups and downs and there to comfort Winter when all hope seemed lost, when he grew saddened as he watched his friends leave.

Although the night he confessed was quite awkward.

He had to build up a lot of courage unless you would confess first. He hopes you do, because even if he likes you and he knows you like him back, Winter thinks it's too embarrassing to confess it out loud.

Hopefully you can knock sense into him, or just confess your crush on him before he goes and has a stroke from panicking.

But if you make him confess first? It'd be simple yet special.

It was a dark but lovely night and stars shined above the clouds, casting a dim light down into the village below, Sanctuary. It was a lovely home for humans and dragons of all kinds. A silkwing sat alone on a boulder, watching the stars with a calm, relaxed smile, nocturnal flowers blossomed and a nearby stream of water gave an enjoyable background noise, it was just them and the Pyrrhian nature.  “[Name], finally, I found you,”A familiar voice called out from behind, causing them to turn around and face him, staring into the pale eyes of- “Winter. Hey, what do you need me for?” “What makes you think I need you to do something?”“Your tone…it makes me think you need something from me.”He paused, looking down and thinking to himself, deeply wondering if this was the right idea. [Name] felt suspicious and curious as to what was up, and they observed him, his scales shining in the moonlight like a beacon in the dark, he looked handsome like this with the stars reflecting off his blue scales. They quickly noticed a flower of sorts in his talons, and [Name] had a feeling of what he was going to say in these next few moments. “Do you ever plan on going back to Pantala? Don’t you have a home and family there?” He hesitantly asked, as if making sure they weren’t leaving. He was avoiding eye contact, afraid of showing vulnerability.

“Not for a while. I never really spoke to family and didn’t really have a home, I feel more comfortable here anyways.” That was all he needed to hear, giving a small, curt nod and smiling to himself, pulling the blue, frostbitten rose out into plain sight and offering it to them. Silently, [Name] took the rose and brightly smiled at him. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” Winter casted his gaze towards the side, nodding as he avoided any eye contact. [Name] smiled in amusement at his behavior, finding it interesting and funny to see the usually stoic icewing be so vulnerable. They liked this side of Winter, they hoped to see more of it. Hopefully one day he’d be more open. [Name] carefully held the rose in their talons, watching Winter with a curious gaze as they motioned for him to sit closer, to watch the beautiful sky together. Noticing the motion, he sighed in content and scooted closer, sitting next to the silkwing. [Name] was curious, would they ever get to go home? Would they want to go home if they ever got the chance? 

Would they leave Winter behind?

Shaking their head, [Name] rid those thoughts and focused on Winter, smiling fondly as they observed him, eyes trained on the stars. Fluttering their wings, they gazed back down at the rose, carefully and delicately caressing the petals with love. They’d definitely be staying.

After you two started dating, he became more open with his opinions, gossiping with you and complaining about anything that had pissed him off.

He doesn't even need you to do anything, just sit and listen to him and he'll be happy.

Winter isn't into PDA and he prefers to not have anyone see him be soft, he'll twine tails or cover his wing over you, but nothing more in public.

Although when it's just you and him, he's incredibly soft and enjoys any and all affection, he may not initiate it though, instead, he'll wait for you to show affection.

No matter what though, he's a big lover boy.

Winter's main love languages are acts of service, gift giving and quality time.

It isn't a shocker when he gifts you a new pair of earrings or asks you to spend time together studying scavengers, or maybe even offers to take over your tasks for the day and hunt for you.

He especially enjoys getting you flowers. Daffodil thinks you two are the cutest, and usually runs off from Winter when you two are interacting, she doesn't exactly like being around Winter anyways.

Constant teasing from Qibli.

I imagine Winter would've wanted to keep the relationship a secret, but since you probably don't have skyfire, Moon would've read your mind and figured it out easily.

She did keep quiet about it for a little while, until Qibli caught onto Winter's softened personality around you.

Overall, Winter is soft on the inside and needs a lot of comfort. <3

ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ, ᴀ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ ᴋɪɴɴɪᴇ.

𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗!

[andypantsx3]

contents: general bakugou x princess reader; fem + afab virgin reader. nsft; oral (f receiving) & missionary. semi-sequel to this drabble. 3.2k.

Your wedding day arrives far earlier than you are prepared for.

It’s a tense affair, for you at least. The country depends on it, and you feel the scheming eyes of the nobility hot on your skin as you pronounce your vows to Bakugou. They will not take kindly to your having chosen him over their sons and brothers, over their own desire to rise to power. There will be a price they will want you to pay, soon enough.

The chapel is resplendent with sumptuous decor, the court in their finest. But the room is fringed with Bakugou’s men in their military leathers, a reminder that this is not a happy day, but rather a dangerous political stunt. It keeps the noble houses docile while they are in the room with you, but you know they will return to their estates and their plans. 

Your fate is in Bakugou’s hands, now, in more ways than one.

The ceremony is dizzying, and impossible to wrap your head around. The preceptor pronounces Bakugou your prince-consort, ostensibly to remain so while you assume the throne after your father’s passing. You will continue to rule him as his sovereign. But your vows to Bakugou also promise him your obedience as his wife. 

It is a contradiction, an impossible trap, the very reason why the general is the only man you could stomach the thought of marrying. If a husband is to rule you after all, Bakugou will do so justly. 

The thought does not stifle your nerves, however, as you make your way back down the aisle, sit down to the reception, and take your meal. A disquieting, anticipatory feeling settles over you, fizzing under your skin. You barely pick at your dinner, and drink too much of the wine.

You can tell Bakugou notices, scarlet gaze ever-perceptive, though he does not say anything until you are shepherded to the bridal suite to consummate.

Various aides try to follow you in to prepare you, but Bakugou slams the door closed on them, propping it shut with one broad shoulder. He barks at them to scram.

“Lord General—that is, Your Highness,” one of them stutters through the door. “We are required to witness the consummation—to verify that it is complete.”

A bolt of shame goes through you at this, and you catch hold of one of the intricately-carved wooden bed pillars. Bakugou grunts, holding the door closed with one palm while spinning to the nearby dressing table and chair. He grabs the chair, wedging it forcefully up under the door handle.

“You’ll be sure of consummation when I’m done here,” he growls through the door. “Don’t need you little fucking perverts making eyes the whole damn time. Now beat it.”

A weird sound escapes you, something between a gasp and a laugh—at his promise, at his gruffness.

“Your Highness,” comes a plaintive entreaty through the door. Bakugou slams a fist against it, and you hear a squeal and a sound like someone’s fallen over their feet.

An absurd laugh seizes you, and Bakugou eyes you pettishly.

“The fuck’re you laughing about,” he says, but there’s no heat in it.

Your fingers twist on the bedpost, nervously tracing the lines. “You’re taking to your new post well.”

Bakugou’s features twist into something dangerously satisfied, a smirk painting his mouth. Your breath comes short.

“My post,” he echoes, raising an eyebrow. “As your husband.”

Your stomach swoops. The disquiet flames back to life under your skin, settling heavy in your gut like a stone. 

“I supposed it is a post like any other,” you say, fixing your gaze on the ground. “There are responsibilities and… marital duties.”

You hear the soft tread of Bakugou’s boot as he steps away from the door, the rustle of his doublet as he draws closer. His many medals and ceremonial sword belt clink softly. It is a fashion you know he does not prefer, always living in his shirtsleeves—the better to fight in, to train in.

A calloused hand takes your chin, tipping your face up to his.

“You nervous, Princess?” he asks. His tone is obnoxious, as usual, but his crimson gaze traces your face.

You barely suppress a shiver under his touch. Your stomach churns with a thousand emotions and you find you don’t know how to feel. Relieved that you’ve made it this far. Annoyed with Bakugou’s composure and general manner. Apprehensive about what is to come. And warm, suddenly, all over. You do not want to examine why.

“Nonsense,” you sniff. 

A feral smile curls the corner of Bakugou’s mouth like he sees right through you. “You’ve never been with a man.”

Your face burns but you force yourself to return Bakugou’s assessing stare. “I’ve never been to Musutafu, either, but I know it well enough. I should think I am… prepared.”

Something hot alights in Bakugou’s gaze, burning like a coal. It’s not unlike how he looked at you that night in the dark outside his chambers, when you’d first come to him with this wild proposal.

“And what do you think you know,” he says, flatter than a question.

Your nose grows hot. “Enough.”

A thumb slides along your jaw, settling against the pulse in your neck. “Answer the question, angel.”

Your face just might be on fire. You steel yourself, reciting dispassionately. “You will undress me and then… enter me. I shall lie still—they say you can breathe through the pain and it will go away after some time. You will… work yourself to completion. And then we shall be done.”

A snort comes from Bakugou. “Is that how you royal tightasses do it?”

You feel your eyes narrow. “That is how everyone does it.”

Your ladies in waiting had been very emphatic. All of them had spoken of the same mechanics. The initial discomfort, the pain, the way a husband moved upon his wife until he was satisfied.

“You don’t know shit, Princess,” Bakugou says.

You reach up to pull his hand from your face, but he tenses, arm growing solid and immovable. 

“Explains why all you nobles are such fucking tight-buttoned pricks if that’s how you’re doing it.”

Your reply is startled out of you when his hand finds your waist. You take a step back, and then another, startling again when your back finds the wall. Bakugou follows you, eyes hot.

“You are insufferable,” you inform him hotly. “I am sure of the matter.”

“You’re always sure of a lot of things, Princess,” he says. His hand is back at your waist, and suddenly all your skin feels too hot and tight, stifling like a velvet dress in summer.

“I am sure you are the most obnoxious man on earth,” you say. “Now be quiet and commence with it. Let’s have done with it.”

Bakugou’s face is suddenly closer than you’d remembered it being.

“I’ll have done with you alright,” he says. “But I’m not gonna do it like you little uppity prudes.”

You find you can’t think of what he means, all of your thoughts clouded with his proximity, the feeling of his hand moving to your skirts.

“I—but there is only the one way,” you manage. None of your ladies had mentioned anything else.

Bakugou’s mouth cuts into a smirk again, and you hate him for how pretty it is. 

“We’ll fuckin’ see about that,” he says.

And then his mouth is pressed to yours. 

It’s nothing like the stilted peck you’d been obliged to give him at the ceremony—one that still left your face burning, for some unknowable reason. This feels entirely different in its intensity. Bakugou’s mouth is hot and soft and tempting and eager, and your body thrills with it.

Every inch of your skin feels like it zings with lightning when he licks into your mouth, and he presses you harder into the wall. You feel his groan all the way down to your toes.

“B–akugou,” you pant when his mouth leaves yours, only to stifle a yip when he moves down to your throat. He sucks a mark there, laving over it with his tongue, and you feel like you're melting in his hands. “That’s—not my—ah!—mouth,” you manage.

The tiniest scrape of teeth has you yelping again, and you find yourself clutching his bicep for purchase.

“No shit,” he says, leaving another mark lower, mapping his way towards your chest. Calloused fingers come up to cup one of your breasts, thumb swiping over your nipple through your stays. You catch hold of his hair, yanking a fistful of that flaxen blonde, clenching your thighs together.

“What are you doing?” you hiss. 

Bakugou looks up at you, expression annoyed. “Consummating.”

“But you’re not undressing me,” you say. “And shouldn’t we—on the bed?

Bakugou raises a blonde eyebrow. “They tell you it needs to be on a bed, too?”

You blink, momentarily disarmed. It was quite literally called sharing the marriage bed—where else were you supposed to do it?

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same thing?” you eventually ask him.

Both of Bakugou’s eyebrows shoot for the moon, and he looks very suddenly like he wants to laugh. A grin yanks at his mouth, sharp and beautiful.

“I knew you’d be a fucking handful,” he says, his tone somehow both annoyed and delighted. “Don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about and you’re still trying to give me orders.”

You yank at the fistful of his hair you’re still clutching and he hisses, hand shooting out to grab yours. He works your grip off of him, pinning your wrist to the wall. The air in the room suddenly feels a hundred times thicker, like trying to breathe through honey.

“Listen closely, Princess,” he tells you, leaning in. “We're going to consummate, alright. But I’m not just gonna squeeze my eyes shut and stick it in. I’m going to do what I want first, and you’re going to be good and let me.”

Your face ignites in flame. You want to disagree reflexively. “If it’s going to be painful I’d rather just have it over with, if you don’t mind,” you say.

Bakugou stares back, scarlet gaze roving over you. “It’s not gonna be if you shut up and let me do what I want.”

You blink. You hadn’t heard that there was a way around the pain—why hadn’t anyone told you?

“I—really?” you ask.

Bakugou nods. “Really.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well then… you may proceed, I suppose.”

“You suppose,” he echoes, staring you down. The look on his face makes you want to lean forward and bite it off.

“Well get on with it,” you say, arching your eyebrows.

Bakugou looks for a moment like he wants to shake you. But he ducks his head instead, lowering his mouth to yours again.

“Gonna fuck that bossiness right out of you,” he mutters, low like he’s promising himself and not you. But then he kisses you again, muffling your gasp in his mouth.

You’ve never kissed another man, and do not have a frame of reference for what he’s doing. But Bakugou is a good kisser, you think. Every flick of his tongue feels like someone has uncorked champagne and poured it beneath your skin, and every brush of his mouth against yours sends a liquid heat racing through your veins.

You moan into his mouth when calloused fingers delve beneath the collar of your gown, dipping into your stays and pinching a nipple. He rolls it carefully, and you arch against him without any say-so from your brain. 

“Been thinking about this, Princess,” he says. “Ever since I saw you in that little nightdress. Gonna show you what it really means to be with a man.”

You’re excused from answering by his mouth back on yours. Not that you think you could, with the way his fingers feel in the cups of your stays, or the press of a strong thigh between your own.

“Bakugou,” you gasp when he peels off of you, only to sink to his knees before you.

“It’s Katsuki,” he says, busying himself with the hem of your skirts. 

“B–Katsuki,” you say. “What are you doing?”

Long fingers roll up the hemline of your dress, then yank at your underthings, exposing you to him. You gasp again, moving to cover yourself, but Bakugou pins you to the wall with an arm across your stomach, catching your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder.

“Husbandly duties,” he replies, another smirk on his mouth.

And then your head thunks against the wall as that mouth moves, pressing to you.

“Katsuki!” you shout, biting off into an embarrassing moan when he laves over you. No one had told you about this part—about how a man’s mouth there would make you feel like fireworks had just been lit off in your veins. About how a man’s mouth could even go there at all.

Bakugou doesn’t reply, kissing you there as he had your lips. A delicate suck from him over the cleft of you has you arching in his hands again, and you can quite literally feel him smirking against you.

He works you thoroughly, licking and sucking for what feels like torturous hours, but must only be minutes, until you’re a writhing, panting mess, only held upright by the arm he has banded across your lower stomach. There’s a pressure rising within you, pooling in all your limbs, making you shake and shiver with it, and what feels like no way to release it.

“Katsuki—I feel strange,” you say, bucking against his mouth. “Oh—oh!”

“Just hold on, sweetheart, and let yourself feel it,” Katsuki tells you, before licking back over you. A finger presses up inside of you, foreign but strangely good in conjunction with his mouth. Then another one presses in and they curl as if seeking something, making you twist in his grip.

And then something makes you jerk—the press of Katsuki’s fingers inside you in just the right spot, while he sucks on you, feeling like he’s touching the same place inside of you from both sides.

Something inside you snaps, uncoiling, pleasure flooding down you like a mudslide. You cry out Bakugou’s name, tears in your vision, riding out your pleasure against his mouth. Bakugou licks you through it, groaning low in his throat with appreciation.

“That’s it, Princess,” he says, tone rough. “Now you’re ready for consummation.”

You hear his words as if through a haze, and it’s only once you’re moving—being picked up and carried over to the bed—that you register what he’s saying.

He frees himself from his breeches, and stretches out over you, kissing your mouth. You’re embarrassed to taste yourself on him, but the press of him to you overrides that concern. In one smooth stroke he presses in, and you are shocked to find that he slides home easily, your core slick and ready.

It feels strange, but not at all unpleasant—absolutely nothing like what they’d told you.

“You alright, Princess?” Bakugou asks.

“I—yes,” you say, voice fluttering off when he flexes his hips, moving inside of you. The slide of him inside of you is unexpectedly good, especially when he lowers a hand to your core, pressing a thumb to that bundle of nerves at the hood of you.

“Feel good?” he asks, his eyes hot on your face. You cling to him, hips lifting into him unthinkingly as his thumb pets over you again, as he presses in and out of you a few more times.

You nod, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.

He grins anyway, feral and fever-bright. His pace picks up into something faster, and you’re embarrassed to hear the slap of him against you, the eager way your body welcomes him in.

The band of pressure builds up inside you again, slowly, with every sure stroke of Bakugou inside you. He’s hot and hard and heavy over you, pressing you into the mattress, and the tops of his cheeks are flush with effort—the way he looks sometimes when he’s just come in from the training pitch.

He’s beautiful—handsome and strong and hot-headed and determined. And it dawns on you that he’s yours now—not just your subject but your husband, your prince consort, and now your lover.

It makes all your skin turn molten hot again, especially when you look down and see your knees have rucked his shirt up. You can see the flex of his abs as he thrusts between your thighs, all that golden skin and dense muscle.

The slide of him inside you and the sight of him over you is suddenly too much, and you feel yourself tip right over the edge again. Bakugou catches your hand as you lift it to muffle your cry, kissing over your knuckles.

“That’s it, Princess, that’s it,” he says again, ducking his head to kiss you.

You moan into his mouth as he fucks you through it, and he groans with the clench of you.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he says against your lips, pace picking up faster. “Knew you would, sweetheart, yeah.”

Embarrassingly you feel almost like you could come apart again with the praise. Bakugou groans once more, and you can hear his grip tighten in the blanket next to your head. His hips buck and flex, wildly uncontrolled now, until he gives one final hard thrust.

His weight pins you down when he relaxes over you, his breath tickling over your shoulder. You find you like the weight of him on you, covering you, like a shield against the rest of the world.

Apt, for a general.

“Better than how you wanted to do it, wasn’t it, Princess?” he asks, smug.

You scoff, but you catch the flash of a white grin in the corner of your vision. There is really no question that he’d had the better of it, this time.

“Knew you’d see it my way,” he says.

Over him, you can hear the flutter of feet outside the door, some muffled discussion. Heat rises to your face when you realize the castle aids most definitely heard you cry out under Bakugou’s ministrations. There will be no doubt of your consummation now, regardless of whether you were observed.

“Nosy fuckin’ perverts,” Bakugou says, rolling off of you. You catch another flicker of his chest with the way his shirt gapes, and he looks doubly smug when he notices.

“Not done yet, angel?” he says.

“I am, thank you.” You flush, embarrassed at having been caught. But Bakugou stretches an arm out to yank you over him, pressing you down over his hips.

Your stomach flutters.

“Give me a couple more minutes, Princess,” Bakugou says, scarlet eyes flashing with heat once more. His hand raises to trail through your hair, catching in the wedding hairstyle they’d pinned you into. 

“Five more minutes,” your new husband promises you, with a grin like the devil. “And then we'll give them something to really listen to.”

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄 ❞

❝ I CAN'T BREATHE WITHOUT YOU, BUT I HAVE TO... ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader (canon / multi au)

✧ summary: "would we love each other in every life?" it's the question you asked satoru the night before his battle, and he replied that, of course you would. but did that promise create a curse -- or were you both always cursed to begin with when it came to love?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, jjk manga spoilers (236 spoilers), multiple lives, assassin!reader x duke!gojo, actor!gojo x singer!reader, prince!gojo x knight!reader, model!gojo x photographer!reader, oral (f!receiving) in a car, semi-public, making out in public, pantyhose ripping, canon compliant except towards the end, angsty, but also bittersweet / implied happy ending

✧ wc: 6,589

“Do you think we would be together in another life?” you ask, not thinking much of the question, as your fingers draw lazy circles against his bare chest, your head resting right between his shoulder and chest. 

Satoru chuckles, vibration against your skin, “Of course we would, sweetheart,” his arms curl around you, tugging you higher, as he gazes up at you, “you think I could live any lifetime without you?” He murmurs, his lips finding yours, “I know we’d find each other, time and time again,” 

“How do you know?” your fingers brush against his cheek, shaking as he presses his cheek into your palm, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“Because, I love you,” he kisses you again, sweet lips gliding against yours, his breath warming your lips as he parts. 

“You did say love is a curse,” you give a small smile, and he presses his forehead to yours. 

“Then I’d want you to curse me — in every life.” 

“I swear on my life,” you press the dagger to his throat, blade digging into his formerly  perfect porcelain skin, drawing scarlet to the surface, “I’ll kill you, Satoru Gojo,” 

“I’m flattered to be a target of the infamous blueblood assassin,” his cerulean eyes glinted like stars in the candlelight, flames flickering across his eyes like burning comets, “but I didn’t think you would announce yourself as you did — what if I called for my guards?” 

You scoff, fingers flexing against the hilt of your dagger, “Then you would be dead before you uttered even a single sound and do you think I left your guards to chance? All of that schooling to be a duke and you haven’t learned a single thing have you?” 

“And what have I done to end up as your target?” he hums — as you bit back a sigh stuck in your throat — you preferred your marks to be much less chatty, but all he had was his mouth you supposed, “you only target the rich and the corrupt — and while I may fit the former, I do not fit the latter,” 

“You’re certainly sure of yourself,” and he’s unfazed by your reply, as his eyes wander the only thing visible of your expression — your eyes. 

“Since you have not stated my crime, I can only assume that I’ve committed none, and the infamous assassin whose morals could not be compromised have been,” and your grip wavers a moment, and he takes advantage of your hesitance to disarm you, and pin you to a nearby chaise all before the clatter of your blade hitting the marble floor, “and now what’s an assassin’s price who has done all of this for no reward?” 

“How do you know I’ve done this for no reward?” you squirm in his grip, but it’s ironclad, and you know all too well he could have broken from your grasp at any point, but he had chosen not to — your heartbeat roars in your ears as one question repeats again and again stuck between  beats — why? “I very well may have taken a payment you don’t know of — you act as if you know of me,” 

“Because I do,” the heir replies with a simple smile, “I have followed your work for a long time, and I found myself fascinated with what you do — and why you do it,” 

“Honored to have caught your attention,” you say in mock reverence, your arm beginning to ache, “now do you plan to call your guards?” 

“Didn’t know you were so eager to die,” he stares still, as you turn your head away from his piercing gaze, “shouldn’t you keep your eyes on your target or now your captor?” 

“Do you ever shut up?” You mumble as you flinch as you squirm under his grip, sleeve riding up ever so slightly — and then he sees it. His eyes narrow, as his hand grasps at your wrist now, “hey! Don’t—“ 

In a moment his fingers nearly rip the fabric of your tunic to tug your sleeve up —  angry red cuts and purple bruises litter your arm. Your breath catches as his eyes stare for several moments before sliding back to you — no longer a placid pool but a raging ocean. 

“Who did this to you?” he says quietly, and you’re blinking, nearly slack jawed, as you try to rip your arms away, but he won’t let you, “who is it? Is it the same person who told you to kill me?” 

“Stop—“ 

“Is it the same person who’s taken someone important to you?” and you grit your teeth in silence, “is it the little orphan you adopted? Yuji?” 

And your eyes snap to his, “How do you know this? Who are you?” 

His lips curl,  “You told me yourself, I’m Satoru Gojo,” and his fingers brush your cheek, “it’s a shame you don’t remember where we first met — because I never forgot,” 

You furrow your brow, “What are you talking about? I think I’d remember you. You’re…” you jerk your head, eyes looking him up and down — lingering on his white hair and eyes, “distinct,” 

“Well what if I had black hair and green eyes, would you remember then?” And he whispers your name in your ear, and you pause, “the fireworks were nothing compared to you,” 

And your breath catches — “You? But—“ 

“I had snuck out, had a disguise and everything, and I had planned to explore the festival alone but who do I find but you?” His grip on you loosens only to pull you a little closer, “the girl who had stolen two steamed buns and pinned me with part of the blame, making me run after you—“ 

“You didn’t have to run—“ and he snorted. 

“Well, it was that or get caught sneaking out — so I chose the lesser of two evils,” you can’t help it, your fingers trace the curve of his jaw to the back of his ear, “are you seeing if I’m defective?” And you find it. 

“No, he—“ you stop yourself, “you had gotten a small cut right behind your ear, it was deep enough that it would have left a scar behind,” and he had gotten a small cut from one of the soldiers who had grabbed them, bucking him with his sword, before you wrenched him out of there. The two of you spent the rest of the night eating food and sneaking around guards. And then finally climbing up on a rooftop to watch the fireworks. 

“How did you—“ 

“One of my father’s advisers found me later that night, in exchange for never sneaking out again without telling him, he said he would keep tabs on you,” 

You have no words, but one left — “why?” 

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, “maybe it was because I’ve been surrounded by nothing but my family’s yes-men, and you were the one person who treated me like a person, maybe it was the fact that day was the only day I actually had fun,” and he glances at you, “or maybe it was because I was drawn to you,” 

And you snort a little, “Do you believe in that fates nonsense they fed all of us as kids?” 

“I think fate is a very real thing, and I think it’s up to us to seize it,” he releases you, holding your hand before bending to press the barest brush of his lips against the back of your hand, “so, will you seize it or continue to evade your fate?” 

“We’ll never be able to evade the press if you do this,” you whisper, as he presses you against a wall of a secluded pillar of whatever place they had chosen to have this awards show, “and our teams will definitely chew us out if we don’t make an—ah,” you gasp, as his teeth nip at your neck, “Satoru, don’t leave a mark,” 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he licks his lips, as he leans up, his normally messy white locks combed and parted to the side, his lips kiss bitten red from the liplock he had you in for the last ten minutes, and his white suit slightly ruffled and pressed against you, “you taste so sweet,” his thumb runs down your puffy lips, “and the desserts tonight sucked,” 

You chuckle, your fingers toying with the hair resting against his undercut, “Think you would have been pleased with receiving the award for best actor, is that not enough Mr. Gojo?” 

“The only thing that pleases me is my gorgeous wife’s singing and,” his lips find yours in a desperate kiss, and you could taste the fruity mocktail he had earlier on his lips, “and her moans when she’s under me,” his hand slides under your dress, dragging over your pantyhose clad thighs, “do you think anyone would notice if you came back without these?” 

“Yes, I do,” you gasp as he tugs at the delicate fabric, “Toru, we shouldn’t—” but your pleas are half-hearted, as his lips drift to press butterfly kisses up your jaw, “you deserve me insane,” 

“I know,” he chuckles, “that’s why you love me,” and you hum, your noses brushing before you meet lips again, “I love you so much,” 

Your fingers cup his cheek, as he leaned into your touch, “I love you too — don’t you want to enjoy all the accolades, the interviews, the congratulations? You won such a big award, Toru, I want you to celebrate,” 

“I am celebrating,” he grins, tilting his head, “I’m surprised at you, princess — and you’re the smart one between the two of us,” he teases, as he turns his head to kiss your palm, “in an entire ballroom full of people in there and all the places in the world, there’s no one place I rather be with than here with you.” 

“How did I end up stuck with you?” you grumbled, your armor weighing on you heavier than other days, as you stood in front of your prince — the little sun of this kingdom and the future king, the man you were sworn to protect for the rest of your earthly days, and your best friend, for better for worse, “if the fates have written it, I must have done something horrid in a past life,” 

“Do you really believe in that garbage?” Satoru raises an eyebrow, as he places his sword down from practice, waiving off his training partner, as he wipes off his sweat with a towel offered by a maid, “You know that stuff they fed to us so we wouldn’t throw tantrums during classes — so we didn’t turn into slugs for our next life,” 

“Why turn into one when you are one already?” you smirk, and he rolls his eyes, as he runs his hand through his hair. 

“Has a slug ever looked this good before?” and you roll your eyes. 

“Think your ego is going to be so large by the time you become king, your crown won’t sit atop your head correctly,” you sigh, rising to your feet, “now we must get you cleaned and dressed, you have a meeting with the—” 

“I actually cleared my schedule for the rest of the day,” and you blink, frowning. 

“His Majesty will not—” 

“His Majesty will be fine — old man hasn’t kicked the bucket over the last fifty things I’ve done — I doubt this will be more than a ten minute lecture on decorum, fifteen if I decide to poke the bear,” he throws you a grin, as he pulls on a fresh shirt, “come, I have something to show you,” 

“Show me?” you repeat, before his hand finds yours — his hands are smooth despite the constant swordplay and practice he put in — he supposed he owed that to the royal staff, tending to his looks as much as they did his health. The same could not be said about yours — riddled with cuts and calluses alike. Your cheeks burned as your unkempt hand held his — “your highness, this is—” 

“‘Your Highness?’” he repeats, throwing you a smirk over his shoulder, “when have you ever called me that?” 

The appearance of holding your hand as he pulled you down several hallways through the palace was beginning to attract the attention of several gawking onlookers. Your cheeks burn — and you’re not sure if it's from the stares, his words, or the fact he was still holding your hand as you both arrive outside his chambers. But you can’t stop him — but you never could stop him when it came to this, could you? It reminded you of the times he dragged you through the gardens, wanting to show you the rabbits’ hidey hole he had found in the corner of the royal gardens. 

“Well I was made an official royal guard and appointed as your personal guard yesterday so I thought a little professionalism—” he unlocks his door, turning to look at you, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“There’s no need for decorum between us, now is there?” his fingers find a stray strand of your hair, and presses his lips to it, as he opens his door. You glance inside to find a lovely decorated cake and a present wrapped perfectly on the table, “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” 

“What—but—” and your mind realizes the date, “how did you—” 

“You think I’d ever forget your birthday?” he tilts his head, as your eyes slide to him, “it’s the day we met,” 

It was — the day you were brought from your home with your father who had been the king’s royal guard for many years, you were brought to be the prince’s — but you didn’t know you would find more than that in him. 

“I didn’t know you did this for your personal staff,” you teased, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth, “I certainly can’t imagine what they would think of you inviting a woman to your room for it,” 

“Well, you are my personal guard, you’re here to personally guard me against anything, right?” and this was the nature of your relationship wasn’t it? Teasing and goading — toeing that line of proprietary before one of you eased off. 

“It seems like I need to guard you only against yourself, your highness,” 

“Satoru,” he corrects, his eyes sliding to you, as he says your name with a softness that you wished he wouldn’t, “you had no issue calling me that before,” 

“We were only friends then, I’m your guard now—“ 

“Do you kiss all your friends?” And your cheeks flare, as your gaze refuses to meet his. 

“That was—a mistake,” you whisper the last two words, “we can’t do this—“ 

“Why not?” You turn away, your eyes sliding to the cake, a frown pulling on your lips. 

“Because you have a duty to your people and I have a duty to you,” and his fingers find your shoulder gently, giving you leave to pull away — but you can’t, you couldn’t. 

“My only duty I desire is the one to you—I love my people, but I can’t be the king they deserve if you’re not the one beside me,” your gaze still cast downward, “I will cast away any responsibility, if I could have a chance with you, sweetheart—“ 

“The king has discussed your engagement with me,” you murmur, “he told me he plans to have you engaged with a princess from a neighboring—“ And his arm is wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer — your gaze lost in the endless blue skies of his eyes, “we can’t—“ 

“I’ll find a way,” and you scoff. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you mutter, and his warm palm slides against your cheek. 

“This isn’t me promising to find a unicorn when we were five, Princess,” and you chuckle at the thought of his child self trudging into the woods with carrots in hand and what he thought was fairy dust (it was ladies’ finishing powder), “I swear that we’ll be together,” and he reaches into his pocket, and holds a small box, opening it to reveal a beautiful infinity pendant, “and this is my promise,” 

You bite your lip, staring at the silver glinting in the sunlight trickling in from the windows, “Satoru—“ 

“Finally giving in?” And you sigh. 

“How can you be sure we’ll be together?” He chuckles, as he gently turns you, making you face the mirror in his room as he places the necklace delicately around your neck, his fingers brushing against the skin of your neck before he clasps it. His arms slowly slide around your middle as he meets your gaze in your reflection, lips curling. 

His lips press a sweet kiss to your cheek, “Because I know I’d choose you, again and again.” 

“Why did they choose him as my model again?” You groaned as you looked at the list, tossing it back on your desk, “he’s so impossible to work with—“ 

“The shoots are finished quick—“ your boss replies gruffly, as he stands with his hands in his pockets, “and he said he’d only shoot with you. Said he likes your work and you’re the only one who can ‘capture the real him,’ some crap like that,” he shrugs. 

“Yaga, I can’t keep dealing with this man, can’t he shoot with anyone else?” 

He sighs, scratching the back of his head, “Look, the magazine we’re working with chose him as the model, and he said he would only do the shoot if you did it,” 

You sigh, leaning on your palm, elbow against your desk. “you’re not giving me a choice are you?” 

And no, he wasn’t. 

Because now you were at the studio for the sight of the shoot, getting everything ready that you could before your model arrived. You made sure his preferred makeup artist and hairstylist were available, you picked out his favorite snacks, got his preferred lighting (to be adjusted when he was on set), and had your cameras adjusted for his light sensitivity. 

All of which reduced the amount of time you had to spend with this man — but not even the most divine snacks would stop him from running his mouth. 

“Sweetheart,” you turned to see him, “miss me?” 

“When pigs fly, maybe,” but your words don’t faze him, a mock pout on his lips, “why do you request me to do your shoots, Gojo?” 

“Because it’s the only way you’ll see me,” and you sigh, as you continue to adjust your camera again, “you still haven’t given me a chance—“ 

“I gave you one chance, wasn’t that enough?” Before you turn to him, “look, I’m here because I have to be. I want to shoot — get in and get out and not have to—“ 

“One chance to talk to you — please, even if you don’t believe me or forgive me—“ 

“Fine,” you shake your head, frustrated, “go finish the shoot and we can talk for five minutes after,” and maybe he would stop forcing you into this situation. 

Satoru Gojo was the top wanted model by all the agencies — agencies were looking to snipe him and others were looking to have exclusive deals with him — whether it was photography businesses or brands. 

You couldn’t blame them, as you adjusted your lights and took a few test shots — he was gorgeous, even by model standards. From his skin to his body to his attitude, it was effortless for him. Even a bad angle or bad lighting did very little to detract from his flawless look. 

The chiseled cut of his jaw put statues to shame, his eyes shone brighter than the shiniest gemstones, his charm the envy of the love goddess herself, and his smile was enough to change hearts and minds alike. 

The shoots always look little time — the part that took the most time was choosing the best shots — you’d love to take one bad picture of him. Even for yourself — but that had proved impossible. Even deprived of sleep in the hours of the early morning, he was perfect. 

Perfect — except for his loyalty, you supposed. 

How had it gone so wrong so fast? And how did you let yourself become so carried away that you thought you were different from the others he bedded? 

And the shoot was over in a moment, and just like he said, Satoru was by your side as you begin to break down the equipment, as the other staff filed out, “can we talk now?” 

“If you have to,” you would give him an ear, but it didn’t mean you’d give him anything else.

“I never cheated on you—“ 

“Bullshit,” you reply, as you pick up the tripod you set up,  “I guess you didn’t the full five minutes,” 

“No, I didn’t—what you saw—“ 

“I saw you kissing another girl all over social media—“

“You saw me with Suguru,” he sighs, “and we weren’t kissing — we were hugging. You thought it was kissing from the angle of the picture, and before I could explain, you had blocked me on everything,”

You pause, “Suguru?” You repeat, as you pull out your phone and pull up the picture — black hair, hair half up, and they could have been hugging. And Satoru pulls out his own phone and shows you a selfie he took that same day, the meta data matching, “oh, oh fuck,” 

“Was that an apology? Not familiar with those coming out of your mouth so—“ 

“Satoru, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, “I saw the pictures and I heard the rumors and I assumed the worst of you,” you run your fingers through your hair, “even though I knew you better than that,” 

“You did, but I understand why you thought that,” he shrugged, “we had only been seeing each other for a month, but it meant something to me,” his voice softens.

“To me too,” you shake your head, “I’m so sorry, Satoru. I don’t know how to make it up to you,” 

“I know,” he smiles, “have dinner with me,” 

You blink. “why?”

“What do you mean, sweetheart? Everyone eats dinner, it’s a—“ 

“Satoru,” you sigh, “I didn’t believe you, I didn’t trust you, how can you forgive me like that? How could you want to be with someone like that?” 

“Well, you made a mistake — you forgave me for the other mistakes I made during our time together, and if I hadn’t let my team convince me that my fake reputation as a playboy would help sell my image — maybe we wouldn’t have been in this mess to begin with,” his fingers brush against yours, “besides, I want to believe in second chances — because I’d want to believe you’d give me one too,” 

Your fingers intertwine with his, “Even when I don’t deserve it?” 

And he lifts your hand to his lips, blue eyes glinting like an ocean dabbled in sunlight, “All the more for you make up for, right?”

This wasn’t right. No. No. 

“Satoru, Toru, please,” your fingers cupped his face, your fingers smeared with his blood as Maki pulled gou away, “no, no!” You don’t remember screaming, but you know you did because your throat was raw, your tears streaming down your face as your hands shook, staring at the dried blood on your fingers. 

He promised you he would win. He promised you he would come back. He promised you a life, a family, a home — something beyond jujutsu. 

And now you were left with nothing but that. 

“I’ll come back,” he had murmured in your ear the night before, his fingers tracing your cheek, “there’s no way I won’t. Have you ever seen me lose?” 

You give a small chuckle, “You just got trapped in a box for almost twenty days?” And he pouts, as he tilts your head up, fingers sliding against your cheek. 

“It was a one time fluke, sweetheart,” and his lips grazing your lips, “and I’m here now aren’t I?” you hum, “and I’ll always be there,” 

“In every life?” He smiles. 

“In every one.” 

In every one — except this one.  

“One would think you’re helpless, if you pout like that,” you teased, as you crawl into bed beside him, a smile on your lips, as he tugs you steadfast into his arms, “it’s only been a few minutes,” 

“It felt like a lifetime,” he presses a kiss to your head, “Is he asleep?” And you nod, a sigh on your lips as you settle into bed.

“After about twenty minutes of arguing, he passed out while I was telling him a story. He’s still not accustomed to this mansion,” neither were you — you had spent a few nights lying awake after jerking from the clutches of sleep — the paranoia still rampant in your mind. But those thoughts were a little farther now as you lie against his chest, heart thrumming under your body — the very heart you were meant to stop, and a chuckle escapes your lips. 

“What is it?” He raises an eyebrow, and you shake your head. 

“Why did you help me?” You draw circles on his chest, “you had every reason not to,” your fingers traced a line across his neck, “I even held a knife to your neck,” 

“And that was very attractive,” and you roll your eyes, “what? I like a woman who takes charge,” 

“Oh I know,” you chuckle, your lips pressing sweet kisses to his neck, “but I still don’t understand — you had every reason to distrust me, we barely knew each other, and yet—“ 

“You were still the girl I fell in love with that night,” he murmurs, “I just knew you were something special and when I saw what you were doing — trying to uproot corruption, I knew I was right. And I knew I had to make you my duchess,” 

“Well I’m not your wife yet,” you tease, the words barely out of your mouth before he’s got you pinned under him, “Toru—“ 

“Now, I told you I was going to seize my fate when I saw it,” and he kisses you, stealing every thought from your mind and every breath from your body, his touch filling you with warmth in return, “and I see it right in front of me,” 

“And what does it look like?” you smile against his lips, as he leans down to kiss you again. 

“Bright.” 

“Is it just me or do these paparazzi lights get brighter and brighter each time?” you rub your eyes as the two of you slide into your car for the night, the driver setting off towards your home. 

“I don’t know, I was too busy being blinded by my gorgeous wife,” and Satoru’s hands are all but under your dress, sliding up and down your sides, before one cups your cheek, “did i mention how incredible you look, sweetheart?” 

You hum, “about a million times,” your fingers slide against his shoulders until he’s practically lying on top of you against these leather seats. 

“That’s a million times too little — you look incredible, sweetheart. This dress was made for you,” and his lips taste as sweet as his words, your fingers sliding into his snowy locks while his slide against your bare thighs, “and I can’t wait to take it off when we get home,” 

“You’re going to take it off now if your hands slide any further up,” he draws a shiver from you as his hands do just that, daring further up your thighs, “Toru—“ 

“Don’t worry, the partition is up and it’s just you and me, sweetheart,” and he’s sinking to his knees on the floor, as his hands slide up your dress, “just keep your voice down, don’t want anyone hearing my wife, do we?” And his lips are grazing your inner thigh, his smirk against your skin, “good thing I relieved you of those pantyhose, huh?” 

“Toru,” you whined, as his fingers parted your thighs, and he could see your all too soaked panties, a damp patch and the fabric nearly translucent while it clung to your clit, “please—“ 

“So needy — and now that mouth of yours is being as honest as this one,” his lithe fingers tug aside the crotch of your panties to expose your cunt, “all this f’me? Been like this since our make out earlier? Surprised I didn’t see your cum drip down your legs,” 

And his words make you squirm, “Satoru, I swear to god—“ and his lips kiss your clit, as two fingers tease at your entrance, gathering your pre on his fingertips. 

“You don’t have to call me god, Princess — just Satoru is fine,” he murmurs as his lips close around your clit, as his fingers work inside your walls, a delicious stretch that draws a pretty gasp from your lips, your head falling back against the leather headrest. 

The sounds of the squelch of your cunt and the slurping of his lips against your clit rang in your ears — your fingernails digging into the seat as your other hand clamped over your lips. 

“That’s it, just like that, Princess,” his tongue darts out to  drag circles around your clit, while his fingers find the spot that makes you see stars. 

“I’m—“ you manage, before you’re cumming around his fingers and lips, your toes curling as you do, head back against the headrest. Your eyes find him to see him looking all too perfect even ruffled, as his lips were glossy with your release, tongue darting out to clean it, before he licked his fingers one by one. 

“And you were worried about the paparazzi noticing your missing pantyhose,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, a smirk against your mouth, “let’s hope no one saw that,” 

And there’s a sharp rap on the window, “Sir and madam? We’ve arrived,” and his lips quirk, as he adjusts your clothes, cleaning your smudged lipstick with his thumb, as you reach up to wipe his lips where the lipstick had gone. 

“Shall we celebrate my win properly?” He opens the door and slides out of the car, holding out his hand for yours.

“As we always do?” And your fingers find his, as he presses his lips to the back of your palm. 

“Always, Princess.” 

“Are you ready yet, Princess?” Your Prince’s arms slid around your waist, his lips already at your neck, as his ocean blues met your gaze in the mirror, “how lucky is our kingdom to have such a lovely future queen? And how much luckier am I to have her as my wife?” 

“We do not know if the people will approve of me still, Toru,” you murmur, eyes shying away from his, your fingers finding the infinity around your neck, “you promised me forever, but will they grant it to us?” 

“Do you have such little faith, sweetheart, in your future husband?” His fingers find your chin, tilting it upwards to meet your gaze, “I’ve already done the impossible — I charmed you over the last two decades haven’t I?” 

“More like wore me down,” and he pinches your cheek, before he presses a kiss to the affronted skin, “re-defined the long game,” and he kisses your nose, “and stole my heart and soul while I wasn’t looking,” 

“I never steal,” he smiles that same smile that was emblazoned in your memory all those years ago, when he emerged from the woods with not a unicorn, but a baby fawn he had frightened from very same thicket, “I only take what was given to me,” he smiles, “and you willingly handed over your heart the moment you let me into your life,” 

“What was I thinking?” you murmur, cupping his cheek, “now I’ll have to deal with the politics of a kingdom for the rest of my days,” 

His lips curl widely, as his lips find yours, a heat that simmers into passion and then into simple love, “I promise, in exchange, I’ll spend the rest of my days making you the happiest you’ve ever been,” 

“The happiest, huh?” you murmur, foreheads pressed together, “that’s a tall order, so you think you can do it?” 

“I know I can,” he smiles, his arms pulling you impossibly closer, “because I’ll never trying to make you happy, Princess.” 

“You’re far too happy with this arrangement,” you say through the door, arms crossed as you pressed your back against it, “I don’t want to come out,” 

“You agreed to this, c’mon sweetheart, you’ve taken countless pictures of me—“ 

“You’re a model — it’s literally your job,” you glare at him through the door, “I’m behind the camera — not in front of it,” 

“But you’re just as beautiful in front of it as you are behind it,” and you can hear his pout through the door, “if you really don’t want to, sweetheart, I won’t make you—“ 

And the door opens, your lips curled in a pout as you emerge in a cerulean gown — the same color as his eyes, the very same that widened upon seeing you. 

“Was this necessary?” you squirm in place, as he bites his lip, eyes raking over you, “Toru—“ 

And he’s in front of you in an instant, his arms winding aaaaaaaaround your waist, “I want to kiss you so badly, but I’ll mess up your makeup,” your breath catches, so his finger brushes against your lips and presses it to his own lips, a little of your lipstick sticking to his lips. 

“Toru,” and his lips quirk at the nickname, “why do you want to take pictures of me?” 

“Because, I want pictures of you that are just for me,” he gently takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your wrist, “because I’ll never have this moment with you again, but I’ll have these pictures with you,” 

“And when do I get pictures that are of you and just for me?” And he presses a kiss to your head. 

“Anytime you want,” he murmurs, “we have all the time in the world, don’t we?” 

Time — that was the one thing Satoru Gojo always lacked. It felt as if his whole life was an hourglass, waiting for the sand to run out — and the one time it came close, blood seeping like sand through his neck, he was able to turn it on its head, until time was on his side agai.  

He wasn’t sure if time was on his side now.  

He could only see the winter sky above — flecks of white he could think were snow but never be sure if that was his vision going blurry. He couldn’t feel anything — but he heard the all too distant squelch of his blood against the ground, the sounds of footsteps, the feeling of his body being lifted, a smile still on his face.

He was going home — the one person who always made his world right side up — the only person who could catch the sand that slipped between his fingers and hold it between warm palms. He forced his body to keep running — to keep going, the flow of cursed energy may have come from the stomach and his brain may be able to power his reversed curse technique — but that didn’t compare to his will to make it home — make it to you. 

“Toru! Satoru!” he couldn’t will his eyes to open, only managing the barest flutter of his eyelids, “it’s okay, Shoko’s got you, I got you,” you murmur, a soft brush that must but your lips. 

Love was always the most twisted curse of them all — and he knew it had always been a curse to love him. Anyone drawn into his orbit seemed only doomed to fall around him — whether it was by their choice, his choice, or fate’s choice. 

Fate. That was a word he never had put a lot of stock into. Suguru always said there was a certain order to things — sorcerers were made to defend humans, and that was our duty. He had replied that fate was an excuse for people too afraid to challenge the status quo. 

Maybe Suguru took that too seriously. 

When Suguru defected — Satoru knew something had to change — he couldn’t let others go even when they had that blue spring. The time that he had stayed frozen in — even as everyone else left, he still lived in those moments, and so he barely lived in the present at all. 

Not until you had shattered his self made prison. 

And it wasn’t without difficulty. 

He told you so many times that it was dangerous to love him, it was foolish to love a person like him with a constant target on their back because inevitably the target would shift to you. And he didn’t want to live in a world without you — but he could choose to, as long as you were the one who would live. 

But you were steadfast in your love, roots cracking through concrete until he was covered in your ivy, entangled so deep that there was no escape—because one look from you had stolen his reservations out from under him. Because loving you was as simple as breathing — it just was. 

“I would want you to curse me — in every life.” 

That’s what he told you the night before this battle — because he knew if he didn’t make it in this life, maybe he could be with you in the rest of them. But how many days would it take until you couldn’t remember the sound of his laugh, the smile on his lips, the way his face looked — because he always feared the same about outliving you. He would only want to outlive you, if only because he didn’t want you to have to bear the pain of outliving him. 

Love was twisted, he thought — as your lips brushed his, he could hear you whisper sweet nothings, falling on deaf ears, but heard all the same — once one found it, they cannot live without it — until they have to. 

His eyes flutter open, and he sees the blurry image of your face, scarlet smeared on your face, as his hand shakily lifted to your cheek, “I love you, sweetheart,” he manages barely a whisper, “I’ll see you again, I promise.”

Maybe he did curse you in the end — because your souls were bound together in existence — to fall into each other’s orbit and live together happily in every lifetime—

Your fingers gently shut his eyes closed, as tears streamed from your own — except in this one. 

“Is it really a curse to meet you again?” you had murmured that early morning, as dawn peaked over Tokyo, and his lips brushed against yours, “sounds like a blessing,” 

“You know that blessings often wear disguises — and words like that always carry a price—” but his lips curl, “but if the price is to meet you and fall in love again and again, I suppose I could pay it.” 

“‘Suppose?’” you repeat, and he laughs at your immediate pout. 

He kisses away your pout, as you slowly melt into his kiss, “Y’know I’d pay any price to fall in love with you again, sweetheart”

You smile, “Just stay with me in this one, that would be enough.” 

Did other lives matter when this was the only one he had fallen for you in this life? He wanted to stay with you here — in this moment, in this time — he wanted you in every life — not just all the others. 

And he vowed that he would— his fingers twitched— 

He would love you in this life too. 

✧ a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this one!! i had a lot of fun writing it. it might not be everyone's cup of tea but hey, i enjoyed it. although i questioned my writing ability a lot while writing it lmao

✧ taglist: @gojolova4eva, @xxemmarldxx, @gojolvrr34, @lilbrubby, @jaixxxsc, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @elaemae, @gojonegs, @captain-shittykawa, @sillyrabbitreads, @akumicchi, @satorustorm, @equikaz, @imaginativeghorl, , @dhoranbolt, @strawmariee, @catsgomurp, @that-goth-bisexual, @fushitoru, @dazailover1900

[ally-writes-many-things]

A Marriage in Convenience Part 2 (R. Danaan)

Part 1

Summary: You and Ruhn are forced to marry each other

Words: 1.2k

Requested: Yes by @elle4404

Tags: @fides25 @mirandasidefics

Warnings or A/N: I added the reader helping out the orphanage just to add on what type of person the reader is.

It's been a stressful week from picking out table covers, to flowers, to cakes to picking out the food. You were going out of your mind and you still haven't figured out that. You and Ruhn had different taste in everything. It wasn't that you weren't willing to compromise with him, it was just that both of you couldn't find anything to compromise on and if you had to hear Tristan crude innuendos, you were going to shoot yourself. Declan had been the only one that hasn't been annoying.

Carrying bags filled with toys and essentials, you and Felix stood in the reception area of the Fae orphanage. "Hello, I'm Jules, the director," greeted a Fae woman in a pantsuit, slightly taller than you.

"Hi, I'm (Name)," you replied. "I wanted to donate some toys and essentials for you all. I heard you were in need.”

Jules enthusiastically agreed. "Yes, we would love to accept the donation. Just leave them with the secretary and we will make sure they are distributed to the kids."

"Miss (Name), where should we put all of it?" one of the workers asked.

"All of it?" Jules questioned.

"Oh! This isn't all of it. There is a truckload coming," the worker replied.

"A tru-truckload?" Jules stammered.

"Yes, ma'am. The Princess here wants to make sure all the kids have everything they need," Felix explained.

“You're the princess who is set to marry Prince Ruhn,” the worker exclaimed.

You nodded. “Yes, but please just call me (Name). I'm just here to ensure that the kids get what they need and want. So, where should we set up?”

The worker suggested, “Oh, definitely the auditorium. It's the biggest room in the orphanage and you can bring the gifts in through the back doors so the kids won't see, if you want to surprise them.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After everything was set up at the orphanage, you instructed the workers to inform the kids about the source of the gifts however they saw fit. You didn't care about receiving credit; you only cared about ensuring the children had what they needed and were happy.

Felix pulled up in front of Ruhn's mother's villa and parked the car. Despite their marriage being purely for show, he was eager for you to meet his mother.

Felix opened the car door for you, and you took a deep breath before stepping out and walking towards the door. After knocking, it took a few moments for Ruhn to answer, looking annoyed as he said, "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

"I was actually doing something productive," you retorted.

"What? Fucking another male you met at White Raven?" Ruhn shot back

You chuckled, "I haven't been intimate with anyone from the club."

"Then who have you been with? I can see the marks on your neck," He pressed.

"I'm sorry, but that's none of your concern. The person I choose to have between my legs is off-limits to you. Our marriage is purely for political reasons and the benefits it brings to our kingdoms. That's all,"

Ruhn sighed and moved aside to let you enter the house, with Felix trailing behind.

"Go straight down the hallway," Ruhn's voice sounded from behind Felix as you heard the door close.

Walking down the corridor, you noticed photographs hanging on the walls. Ones of Ruhn, others with Ruhn and his mother, and some of Ruhn with a young girl. The resemblance between the little girl and Ruhn made you assume she was his sister. His mother was undeniably stunning. It was no surprise the Autumn King had taken notice of her.

You proceeded down the hallway until it led to a spacious room adorned with a couch, a recliner, a coffee table, a TV, fireplace, and various knick-knacks, giving the place a cozy atmosphere.

A smile formed on your face as you compared this welcoming living room to the cold mansion you once called home. No matter how much you tried to make it feel like one, it never exuded the warmth and comfort that this house did. It dawned on me that your mansion was simply a building, not a true home.

"Oh! Hi!" a woman greeted me from behind. "You must be (Name). I'm Lorin."

I turned to face her and was struck by her beauty. There was a certain softness in her features that set her apart from other faes. Her blue eyes reminded me of Ruhn's, and her silky black hair only added to her allure. If Ruhn and I were to have children, I hoped they would inherit more of Lorin's traits than Runn’s father's.

I extended my hand towards her and replied, "Yes, that's me. I apologize, but you are truly stunning.”

"Oh my Gods. I was thinking the same,"

"Thank you,"

"Is that the man accompanying you your bodyguard?"

I glanced at Felix and touched his shoulder. "Yes, this is Felix,"

Lorin shifted his gaze to Ruhn, who entered the room. "Your father made a great choice,"

Ruhn simply nodded and settled onto the couch.

"Aren't you going to offer her a drink or snack?” His mom questioned.

“Do you want anything?” Ruhn inquired.

As you were about to decline, the enticing aroma of chicken, sausage, garlic, and other delicious ingredients filled the air, causing your stomach to growl. "The smell of whatever you're cooking is absolutely mouthwatering," you admitted.

She revealed that it was chicken and sausage gumbo with smoked paprika, garlic powder, mustard powder, and cayenne. She then asked if you had any allergies.

You declined any allergies. "Nope," you shook your head.

She then offered you some of the delicious meal. "Yes, please," you enthusiastically accepted.

Lorin smiled warmly and motioned for you and Felix to follow her into the kitchen. Catching a glance at Felix, she asked, "Do you want some too?"

Felix hesitated, "No, ma'am. I don't want to-"

Lorin interrupted firmly, "Nonsense. You are protecting my future daughter-in-law. That means I am going to make sure you are going to eat and don't leave my home hungry."

With a grateful nod, Felix replied, "Yes, ma'am.”

I smiled with Felix, and he returned the gesture. It was heartwarming to see someone treating Felix as more than just my bodyguard, and I couldn't help but feel grateful.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As I danced to the music at the White Raven, Felix stood watch from a distance, ensuring our safety. Suddenly, I felt hands on my body and turned to see that it was Ruhn. "You really think I can't smell Felix on you?" His words were hushed by the loud music, shielding our conversation from others.

I knew that pushing him off would attract unwanted attention and potentially lead to more trouble.

You took his hands and placed them on your midsection, dancing with him. "You really think I can't smell all the females on you?"

Ruhn remained silent in response.

"Do you even know who they are? Can you name at least one? I know Felix's name, at least."

Ruhn angrily pushed past me and left. I shrugged it off and chuckled, then proceeded to pull Felix onto the dance floor at the club.

Fuck what others think.

[queenendless]

💀🎃👻Spooky Greetings👻🎃💀

A/n: This literally came to mind when I saw something similar in the actual game event. First time posting twst content here. This may get a sequel. Gonna try to post variety spooky content here cause HAPPY OCTOBER YALL!

SPOILERS for the new Halloween game event going on, somewhat. Also, a bit of Skully x fem!reader and implied fem!reader x the twst bois shown/tagged down below. Short Harem drama, kinda. Not much. But I think it ain't half bad.

*DON'T STEAL, COPY, EDIT, REPOST AND TRANSLATE MY FANFIC WORK. REBLOG, LIKE, FOLLOW PLS N THNX.*

“Hello, my lovely~”

The moment this new strapping figure — “Skully J. Graves at your service~” — appeared holding you in his arms as you awoke, you were awestruck at the spooky strapping young man.

After introducing all of yourselves, watching him kiss the hand of your schoolmates was amusing; seeing their appalled expressions. Guessing they don't get that brand of greeting often, huh?

Him kissing Grim's cheek had his fur stand on end to your delight.

And yet?

The moment he took your hand — only to pull you in and kiss you smack dab on the lips?

You felt the fires of envy and hate turn ablaze as the various pairs of eyes glowed outrageously.

Many hands, gloved or not, snatched him off you.

And all hell broke loose.

“Get your grubby hands off my beloved, you cretin!” Riddle turned red even his paled up Gothic aesthetic; Trey holding the struggling boy back in his arms.

“He means MY herbivore, skeletal bastard.” Leona growled in Skully’s face as he grabbed his collar.

“On the contrary, MY angel isn't up for auction when it comes to kisses from mere worms.” Azul's irked smile gave off unpleasantness.

“Oho? That doesn't seem to be the case, surely.” Jade jested to his boss's ire.

“MY jewel’s already doing so, octo pimp. That goes for you too, street rat.” Jamil hissed them both back and forth.

“Have you no manners of consent, you mongrel? Besides, my darling Y/n has better taste than you all. Me, for example.” Vil flaunted in the others irked faces; Epel looked just about done at this point.

“Don't you dare take away my Otaku goddess, you noob!” Idia gripped dramatically to the others nuisance. 

“How dare you lay a finger on my beloved human.” Malleus spoke doom.

The air around them crackled with literal lightning as emerald flames had his hands full.

“My future Queen … prepare yourself … FOR HELL.”

“WAKA-SAMA!” Sebek switched to fanboy mode at his God's might.

“For once, we're on the same page.” Leona's smirk sent his way spoke volumes as he dropped Skully before the dragon prince.

“TSUNATARO, STAND DOWN! ALL OF YOU, PLEASE!” You got in the way to defend the new anime boy from the others' united wrath, especially Malleus's. “One kiss is not that big of a deal.”

You could hear a pin drop now as everyone, even Skully, viewed you as if you had two heads.

“Good grief. Ya sure you're not magical? Cause you're bewitching them into lovestruck fools. And you're not dating any of ‘em. God, you're an idiot.” Grim griped.

Leona, Jamil, and Sebek appeared as glowing eyed phantom monsters ready for the kill. “YOU'RE ONE TO TALK, FUR BALL!!!”

Yet Skully looked unperturbed, his charming toothed smile arised, as Grim got chased by three SSR dressed pissed off mages. “Oya oya … What a lively bunch, you all are. And all because I took a kiss from your sweet lips, lovely Y/n. But if you are single, then may I ask you out?”

“NO!!!” All the former overblot cases now turned bachelors for your token affections shouted in unison.

Trey, Jade and Epel and you hung your head in exasperation.

Ah, quite the Harem dilemma.

Halloween coated, no less.

[cambion-companion]

what kind of father do you think aemond would be? also would looove for you to write some more dad!aemond because with your understanding of the character it would be so good!!!

I actually have several dad!Aemond asks waiting to be fulfilled in a drabble or oneshot! He would be such a good father, I just love the idea of having kids with him (which is WILD because normally I strongly dislike children lmfao). I touched on this in a pregnant!reader fic, but Aemond would be determined to not be the kind of father Viserys was to him. He will dote upon his child be it a son or daughter, he doesn't care, so long as his little dragon is safe, healthy and happy. Aemond as a girl!dad is what team black stans wish Daemon was 😄 he'd be SO fucking protective too.

Aemond would sometimes be a little too strict sometimes because of his desire to protect his child, but that could easily be tempered by his wife. Being a father is something Aemond GREATLY desires and his wife experiences that every time they make love 🤭🤭🔥

[andrealvsbooks]

Demons

Who is Lizbeth Potter really?

That's a question that gnaws at Lizbeth herself. All her life she has felt strange as if a piece of her life was missing, when at last it seemed that the moment of answers would come, everything seems to get worse.

What seemed like a simple tournament in which she would also see her boyfriend Peter Pevensie again, becomes her biggest problem while she deals with new powers, a new identity as hated as the girl who survived and lies.

Have I mentioned yet that she now has a voice in her mind that says it's her dragon pestering her all the time?

Yes, Lizbeth Potter's luck couldn't get any worse.

Well, all said and done, here is the beginning of the fanfic I told you yesterday!

English isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes or things that look weird please tell me so I can fix them.

Cast

"I'm afraid of all I am

My mind feels like a foreign land

Silence ringing inside my head

Please, carry me, carry me, carry me home"

     Adelaide Kane as Lizbeth Potter

"How can you go from loving someone to hating them in an instant?"

  Toby Regbo as Peter Pevensie

“After so many lies, I discover that you carry the blood of those who took so much from me. And worst of all, my life is tied to yours in spite of everything.”

Asgeir

“I chose you for a reason Lizbeth Potter and I never make mistakes. Honor your lineage and stop hiding the real you.”

Megan Follows as Aravis Magrim

“The pain is yours my dear, you are the only one who can decide whether to stay sinking in misery or turn it into something powerful.”

[astrxq]

Soulbound Flames

jacaerys velaryon x reader

words: 15.7k

notes: based on this request!

In the shadowed corners of Westeros, where the ancient blood of Old Valyria still held sway, stories of soulmates and dragon bonds had long been whispered but seldom believed. These tales, passed down through generations like precious heirlooms, spoke of a connection so profound that it transcended the already miraculous bond between dragon and rider. It was said that in those ancient times, a dragon could sense the one person who was destined for their rider – a rare and almost mystical connection, deeper and more profound than anything known to the world of men.

But those days were long past, faded into the mists of time and legend. Few alive still entertained such tales, dismissing them as fantastical relics of a bygone era. Now, these stories were spoken of only in quiet corners, among the old and the hopeful, or in the halls of Rhaenyra's court, where intrigue thrummed like a low, constant hum beneath the surface of daily life.

You were no stranger to these whispered legends, though you had never expected to find yourself at the heart of one. The very notion seemed absurd, a flight of fancy better suited to the dreams of children than the harsh realities of life in the Seven Kingdoms. 

You had grown up in the court of Princess Rhaenyra, a place where politics and power wove through every interaction like golden threads in a tapestry. Your father, a man of keen intellect and unwavering loyalty, had been a member of her council for as long as you could remember. He was deeply entrenched in the delicate dance of alliances and loyalties that made up the backbone of the court, a world you observed with careful, curious eyes from the sidelines.

As his daughter, you were afforded a certain standing -- a place close enough to power to be seen, but far enough that you could move quietly, observing the world around you with a perspective few others shared. It was a unique position, one that allowed you to see both the glittering facade of court life and the complex machinery that lay beneath.

It was there, within the imposing stone walls of the castle, that you first met Jacaerys Velaryon. The memory of that initial encounter was etched clearly in your mind, a moment that would prove to be more significant than you could have possibly imagined at the time.

The prince had been little more than a boy when you first encountered him, his face still soft with the roundness of youth. At one and ten, he was caught in that peculiar stage between childhood and adolescence, his body growing faster than his confidence could keep up. And yet, even then, there was something about Jacaerys that set him apart from the other children of the court.

It wasn't his lineage, impressive though it was. Nor was it the way the adults seemed to watch him with a mixture of hope and expectation, as if already envisioning the man he would become. No, what struck you most about Jacaerys was the intensity in his dark eyes, a depth of feeling and thought that seemed at odds with his youthful appearance. Those eyes, you would come to learn, could convey volumes without a single word being spoken.

Your first meeting had been unremarkable by most standards -- a chance encounter in one of the castle's many winding corridors. You had been hurrying back to your chambers, arms laden with books from the library, when you quite literally ran into the young prince. The collision sent your carefully balanced stack of tomes tumbling to the floor, the sound of their impact echoing off the stone walls.

"I'm so sorry!" Jacaerys had exclaimed, immediately dropping to his knees to help gather the scattered books. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

You had been prepared to be annoyed, perhaps even a little indignant at the interruption. But as you knelt beside him, reaching for a particularly ornate volume on herbal remedies, you caught sight of his face. The genuine concern in his expression, coupled with the slight flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks, immediately softened your mood.

"It's alright," you had assured him, offering a small smile. "No harm done."

Jacaerys had returned your smile then, a tentative quirk of his lips that seemed to light up his entire face. As he handed you the last of the fallen books, your fingers had brushed against his, and for the briefest of moments, you felt a strange tingling sensation, as if a spark had passed between you.

"You like to read?" he had asked, eyeing the impressive stack of books with curiosity.

You nodded, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about your literary choices. "I do. These are mostly about herbs and their medicinal properties. My father says it's important to understand the healing arts."

Jacaerys' eyes had widened with interest. "That sounds fascinating. I've been trying to learn more about dragon lore myself, but the maester says I need to focus on my history lessons first."

The conversation flowed easily from there, both of you discovering a shared love of learning and a curiosity about the world around you. By the time you parted ways, a seed of friendship had been planted, one that would grow and flourish in the years to come.

The whispers about you and Jacaerys had started early, though at first, you paid them little mind. They were nothing more than the idle gossip of the court, after all -- soft-spoken observations about how often you and the young prince seemed to find yourselves in each other's company.

The women of the court, always eager for a new story to dissect and discuss, had their theories. Some said it was nothing more than the innocent friendship of children, a natural camaraderie born of proximity and shared interests. Others, however, hinted at something deeper, more magical. They spoke in hushed tones of the way Jacaerys' dragon, Vermax, seemed unusually interested in you, even from a young age.

"Have you noticed," they would whisper behind ornate fans and goblets of wine, "how the prince's dragon watches her? It's not natural, the way those golden eyes follow her every move."

"Perhaps," another would reply, voice lowered conspiratorially, "there's truth to the old tales after all. Dragons and soulmates, imagine that!"

But you had never paid the rumors much mind. After all, they were just stories, weren't they? Fanciful tales spun by bored courtiers looking for entertainment. You and Jacaerys were friends, nothing more. The notion that there could be anything magical or predestined about your relationship seemed laughable.

And yet, as the years passed, you couldn't help but notice the way Vermax's gaze seemed to linger on you, those intelligent eyes watching with an intensity that was both unnerving and oddly comforting. There were times when you could have sworn the dragon understood more than he let on, as if he were privy to some great secret that eluded both you and Jacaerys.

You and Jacaerys had grown up together in the court, your paths crossing often in the gardens or the corridors of Dragonstone. He had always been kind to you, though shy in his attentions. There was a gentleness to Jacaerys that set him apart from many of the other young nobles, a thoughtfulness that manifested in small, considerate gestures.

You, in turn, had found a quiet comfort in his presence. There was a simplicity to your relationship in those early days, a kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you felt the need to question. You could sit together in comfortable silence for hours, each absorbed in your own pursuits, or engage in spirited debates about everything from the properties of various herbs to the intricacies of dragon anatomy.

But as the years passed, that simplicity began to shift, evolving into something more complex, more charged with potential. The easy camaraderie of childhood gave way to a deeper connection, one tinged with an awareness that neither of you quite knew how to navigate.

Your childhood with Jacaerys had been marked by small, innocent moments that, in retrospect, held far more significance than you had realized at the time. Days spent in the castle gardens became treasured memories, each one a building block in the foundation of your relationship.

You had always been drawn to the quiet magic of the natural world, finding solace and purpose among the neat rows of herbs and flowers. It was there, surrounded by the heady scent of lavender and rosemary, that you felt most at peace. And it was there that you often found yourself in Jacaerys' company, sharing your knowledge and passion with the curious prince.

One particular memory stood out vividly in your mind -- a warm summer afternoon when you were both on the cusp of adolescence. You had been gathering herbs with a care that belied your age, your fingers moving deftly among the fragrant leaves and stems. Jacaerys had watched you work, his dark eyes bright with curiosity.

"Here," you had said, offering him a carefully arranged bundle of lavender and rosemary. "For you."

Jacaerys had accepted your gift with a puzzled smile, turning the herbs over in his hands as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning. "I don't understand," he had said, his voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and genuine confusion. "Why do you always give me these?"

You had shrugged, your hands covered in the rich scent of the earth. "They're for protection," you explained, recalling the lessons your mother had taught you long ago. "My mother used to say that rosemary wards off evil. And lavender helps with sleep and calming the mind."

Jacaerys had laughed then, though not unkindly. His eyes had sparkled with mirth as he asked, "And you think I need more courage?"

"It couldn't hurt," you had replied with a grin, pleased to see the way his face lit up with amusement. "Besides, everyone could use a little extra protection, even princes."

There had been something about that moment -- something in the way his laughter had faded into a quiet, thoughtful smile -- that stayed with you long after. Even then, you had sensed the way his feelings for you were beginning to shift, though neither of you were old enough to truly understand what that meant.

What you didn't know then, and wouldn't discover until years later, was that Jacaerys had kept every bundle of herbs you had given him. He had hidden them away in a small, ornate box beneath his bed, a secret treasure trove of memories. Though their scents had long faded, their meaning lingered, a tangible reminder of the bond you shared.

As you both grew older, the innocent exchanges of childhood gave way to something more nuanced, charged with an energy neither of you quite understood. You began to notice the way Jacaerys' eyes lingered on you a little too long, the way he seemed to find excuses to be near you.

There were times when he would reach out, his fingers brushing against yours as he helped you plant a new seedling, and you would feel a spark of electricity pass between you. It was a connection that defied explanation, a current of energy that seemed to flow between you, dragon, and rider.

And always, always, there was Vermax. The prince's dragon had been a constant presence in Jacaerys' life since he was no more than an egg. The bond between them was instantaneous and profound, as it was with all dragonriders. But there had always been something unique about Vermax, a keen intelligence that seemed to go beyond even the considerable intellect of his kind.

From a young age, the dragon had been fiercely protective of Jacaerys, following him with a loyalty that seemed almost human in its depth. But as the years passed, you began to realize that Vermax's interest in you was not entirely normal.

At first, it had seemed like little more than curiosity. Dragons were intelligent creatures, after all, and it wasn't unusual for them to take an interest in the people around their riders. But Vermax's attention had gone beyond that. There were moments when you would feel the weight of his gaze on you, heavy and expectant, as though he were waiting for something.

It was unsettling at times, though never frightening. In fact, there was a strange sense of comfort in the dragon's presence, as though he were watching over you just as much as he was watching over Jacaerys. It was a dynamic that you couldn't quite explain, but one that felt inexplicably right.

As you and Jacaerys entered your early teenage years, the dynamics of your relationship began to shift in subtle but unmistakable ways. The easy camaraderie of childhood gave way to a more complex interplay of emotions, fraught with the uncertainty and excitement of first love.

You found yourself hyper-aware of Jacaerys' presence, your heart quickening whenever he entered a room. The sound of his laughter, once simply pleasant, now sent shivers down your spine. You caught yourself watching him when you thought he wasn't looking, admiring the way he had begun to grow into his lanky frame, the way his jawline had sharpened and his shoulders broadened.

Jacaerys, for his part, seemed equally affected by the change in your relationship. His usual confidence would falter when you were near, his words becoming tangled as he struggled to maintain the easy conversation you had once shared. You noticed the way his eyes would follow you across a room, lingering on the curve of your neck or the sway of your skirts.

The whispers in the halls continued, handmaids and courtiers alike softly mumbling about the prince's obvious crush. You tried to ignore them, and you liked to think Jacaerys did too, but their words planted seeds of possibility in your mind that you couldn't quite shake.

One particularly memorable afternoon, you had been tending to the castle gardens, carefully snipping away at the overgrown tendrils of ivy that threatened to choke out the more delicate plants. You were lost in thought, your mind wandering as your hands worked automatically, when Jacaerys joined you.

You heard him before you saw him, his footsteps crunching softly on the gravel path. "You're going to turn this place into a jungle," he teased, his voice carrying a warmth that made your heart skip a beat.

Looking up, you saw him leaning against a stone pillar, watching you with an amused expression. His hair was tousled, likely from the wind, and you noticed a wooden practice sword at his side. He'd been training with his younger brother Lucerys, you realized, a fact that explained the slight sheen of sweat on his brow and the healthy flush in his cheeks.

You felt a smear of dirt on your own cheek and resisted the urge to wipe it away, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. Instead, you straightened up, brushing your hands on your apron. "I happen to think that a bit of wildness adds character," you replied, unable to keep a smile from tugging at your lips.

Jacaerys raised an eyebrow, his own smile widening. "Character, or chaos?" he asked, pushing off from the pillar and moving closer.

"Chaos, definitely," you admitted with a laugh. "But it's the good kind of chaos. The kind that reminds us that not everything needs to be perfectly manicured and controlled."

He nodded, his eyes scanning the garden with newfound appreciation. "I suppose I can't argue with that. As long as you promise not to let the roses take over the entire castle."

You hummed in agreement, though you both knew you had no real intention of reining in the roses anytime soon. Their wild beauty was part of what made the garden so special, after all.

Jacaerys moved to kneel by your side, his hands mimicking yours as he began to help with the pruning. You worked in comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sounds the snip of shears and the distant call of birds.

"How was training?" you asked eventually, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He shrugged, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Lucerys is getting better. He almost managed to disarm me today."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the mix of pride and mild indignation in his voice. "I'm sure you'll always be able to best him in something," you teased. "If not swordplay, then perhaps in your ability to brood dramatically while staring off into the distance."

Jacaerys let out a bark of laughter, nudging you playfully with his shoulder. "I do not brood," he protested, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Oh, but you do," you insisted, your voice taking on a mock-serious tone. "It's quite impressive, really. Very princely."

He playfully glared at you, moving to mirror your position and watch as you threaded the herbs in your hands. Jacaerys spoke of the latest lessons he'd been struggling with, his brow furrowing slightly as he recounted a particularly challenging session with the castle's maester. 

"Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever truly understand all the intricacies of statecraft," he confessed, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "There's so much to remember, so many nuances to consider."

You paused in your pruning, turning to face him fully. The vulnerability in his admission touched something deep within you. It was rare for Jacaerys to express doubt, especially about matters related to his future role. "You will," you assured him, your voice soft but firm. "You have a good heart, Jace. That's more important than memorizing every law and precedent."

His eyes met yours, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, more intense, swirling in their depths. "You always know what to say," he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with an energy that made your heart race. You were acutely aware of how close you were sitting, of the way the afternoon sun caught the highlights in Jacaerys' hair, of the slight quickening of his breath. You cleared your throat, hoping to hide your fluster. 

Suddenly, a mischievous glint appeared in Jacaerys' eyes, breaking the tension of the moment. He reached over and plucked a small, vibrant flower from a nearby bush. With exaggerated ceremony, he tucked it behind your ear, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

"There," he said, his voice soft. "Now you look like a true spirit of the garden."

You felt a warmth creep into your cheeks, your heart fluttering at the gentle gesture. "Thank you," you murmured, reaching up to touch the delicate petals. "Though I'm not sure I can compete with the actual flowers."

Jacaerys' gaze softened, his eyes never leaving yours. "I think you outshine them all," he said, his words barely above a whisper.

You found yourself leaning in slightly, drawn by the intensity of his gaze. For a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you in this secluded corner of the garden.

But before either of you could act on the moment, a distant call broke the spell. One of the castle guards was approaching, likely with a message for the prince.

Jacaerys sighed, reluctantly stepping back. "Duty calls, it seems," he said, a note of regret in his voice. "But... perhaps we could continue this later?"

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was still racing. "I'd like that," you replied, offering him a small smile.

As Jacaerys turned to leave, he cast one last glance over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on the flower in your hair. The moment may have passed, but the promise of more hung in the air between you, sweet and full of possibility.

The days that followed your encounter in the garden seemed to pass in a haze of stolen glances and lingering touches. Every interaction with Jacaerys now carried an undercurrent of anticipation, as if you were both waiting for something to happen, though neither of you quite knew what.

You found yourself seeking out his company more often, your steps unconsciously leading you to the places you knew he frequented. The library, where he would often be found poring over ancient tomes of dragon lore. The training yard, where you would watch from afar as he honed his skills with sword and shield. And always, always, the gardens, where you both seemed to find a sense of peace amidst the chaos of court life.

The day you felt a shift in your heart, Jacaerys had invited you to join him in the open fields near the Dragonpit. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the landscape. Vermax, ever watchful, was sprawled lazily on the grass, his massive wings folded neatly by his sides.

You approached cautiously, feeling the familiar thrill of excitement at the sight of the dragon. Vermax lifted his head, his golden eyes following your every movement. There was something almost playful in his gaze, as though he were waiting for you to do something entertaining.

“What do you think he’s planning?” Jacaerys asked, coming up beside you.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s plotting some sort of mischief,” you replied, your tone light. “He always seems to have that look in his eyes.”

Jacaerys chuckled, a sound that was quickly drowned out by Vermax’s sudden, exuberant leap. The dragon bounded toward you, his massive frame causing the earth to tremble beneath him. You shrieked with laughter as Vermax’s warm breath ruffled your hair, and he nudged you playfully with his snout.

“Careful,” Jacaerys warned with a grin. “He might decide you’re his new favorite toy.”

You ducked as Vermax playfully tried to grab your skirts with his claws, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I think he’s already made up his mind,” you said, trying to catch your breath between giggles.

Jacaerys joined in the laughter, his face flushed with amusement. “Well, if he’s decided you’re his favorite, then I suppose I’ll have to share you.”

You swore your heart almost jumped out of your chest, you noticed Vermax’s huff at the prince’s comment.

At first, it was just a matter of curiosity. Dragons, as intelligent and formidable as they were, often took an interest in those around their riders. Vermax’s gaze would follow you with a keen, almost feline curiosity, his golden eyes tracking your every movement with a level of intensity that was both unnerving and oddly comforting.

You had grown accustomed to his presence. He would appear near the Dragonpit, his massive form casting a shadow over the land. His keen eyes seemed to follow you, watching with an intensity that suggested he was waiting for something. At times, he would perform small acts of assistance – igniting a pile of leaves with a controlled burst of flame or helping clear debris with a gentle sweep of his tail.

The dragon would often follow you, hovering just out of sight, his golden eyes always watching. It was during these moments that you began to realize the depth of Vermax’s fascination. He was not merely curious; he was attentive, almost protective. 

Jacaerys began to notice Vermax’s behavior as well. “He’s been following you a lot lately,” he remarked one day, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern.

You shrugged, brushing a speck of dirt from your dress. “He seems to enjoy my company. I don’t mind.”

Jacaerys frowned slightly, his brow furrowed. “It’s not just that. He seems… different around you. I’ve never seen him act this way with anyone else.”

You met his gaze, searching for an explanation you didn’t have. “He’s always been attentive. Maybe he just likes being near me.”

With each passing day, Vermax’s playful spirit drew you in further, his antics becoming a source of joy and wonder. You found yourself captivated not just by his impressive size and strength, but by the way he seemed to understand you in a way few others did. The warmth of his golden eyes held a depth that hinted at a connection you couldn’t quite grasp, igniting a blend of curiosity and exhilaration in your heart.

The salty breeze whipped through your hair as you stood atop the cliffs of Dragonstone, your eyes fixed on the horizon where sea met sky. The pungent scent of herbs clung to your fingers, a reminder of the morning spent in your personal garden. You were already making a name for yourself among the castle's inhabitants as a skilled herbalist, following in your father's footsteps but carving your own path in the world of science and medicine.

You breathed in deeply, savoring the crisp air that always seemed to invigorate your senses. It was in these quiet moments, away from the bustle of the castle, that you felt most alive. But as always, you weren't truly alone.

A low rumble from behind made you smile. You didn't need to turn to know that Vermax had followed you out here. Again.

"I know you're there," you said, your voice carried away by the wind. "You're not as stealthy as you think, you overgrown lizard."

Another rumble, this time sounding almost indignant, and you couldn't help but laugh. You finally turned to face the magnificent creature that had become your unlikely shadow over the past few years.

Vermax's scales shimmered in the sunlight, a mesmerizing dance of bronze and gold. His intelligent eyes watched you with what you could only describe as curiosity. It was a look you'd grown accustomed to, ever since the day he'd first started following you around the castle grounds.

"What do you think?" you asked, gesturing to the basket of freshly picked herbs at your feet. "Think we've got enough wormwood for that new tonic I'm working on?"

Vermax tilted his head, nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the basket. You chuckled, shaking your head at the absurdity of consulting a dragon on herbal matters. And yet, there was something comforting about his presence, a constancy in the ever-shifting world of Westerosi politics that surrounded you.

A sudden gust of wind threatened to topple your basket, and you quickly reached down to steady it. Vermax, in a surprising display of gentleness, used his wing to shield you and your precious cargo from the blast.

"Thank you," you murmured, patting his scales appreciatively. "Though I'm sure Prince Jacaerys would prefer you were with him instead of playing nursemaid to me and my plants."

At the mention of his rider's name, Vermax's head swiveled towards the castle. You followed his gaze, your eyes landing on a familiar figure making his way along the winding path towards you.

You felt a familiar flutter in your chest, one that you promptly ignored. Jacaerys had been your friend for years, ever since his family had sought refuge on Dragonstone. You'd grown up together, sharing lessons and adventures. But he was a prince, and you... well, you were just you.

"I thought I'd find you two up here," Jacaerys called out as he drew nearer. "You know, most people would be terrified to find a dragon following them around."

You shrugged, a smirk playing at the corners of your mouth. "Vermax is a perfect gentleman. Aren't you, you big scaly brute?"

Vermax preened at your words, puffing out his chest and eliciting a laugh from both you and Jacaerys.

"I think he likes you more than me sometimes," Jacaerys said, reaching out to scratch under Vermax's chin. The dragon leaned into his touch, eyes half-closing in contentment.

"Nonsense," you replied, busying yourself with your basket of herbs to avoid meeting Jacaerys’ eyes. "He's your dragon. I'm just... a distraction, I suppose."

Jacaerys was quiet for a moment, and when you finally looked up, you found him watching you with an intensity that made your cheeks warm.

"You're not a distraction," he said softly. "You're..." He trailed off, seeming to struggle for words.

An awkward silence fell between you, filled only by the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs below and Vermax's steady breathing. You cleared your throat, desperate to dispel the sudden tension.

"I've been working on a new tonic," you said brightly, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "For headaches. I thought it might help your mother, with all the stress she's under."

Jacaerys’ face lit up, his earlier hesitation forgotten. "She'll be so grateful."

There was that flutter again, stronger this time. You pushed it down, reminding yourself of the realities of your positions. Jacaerys was kind, had always been kind to you. But kindness wasn’t love, and you knew better than to dwell on such thoughts. You were content with the friendship you shared – its warmth was enough.

You crouched down, reaching into your basket to inspect the herbs, trying to focus on the familiar rhythm of your work. The scent of rosemary and wormwood filled the air, grounding you, but you were still keenly aware of Jacaerys standing just a little too close.

"Your garden’s thriving," He remarked, crouching beside you. He wasn’t one for keeping his distance, never had been. It was one of the reasons why you treasured your time together – there were no walls between you. No formalities, just the easy companionship of two souls who had grown side by side.

You smiled, plucking a leaf from a stalk of lemon balm and holding it out to him. “Smell that. Calming, isn’t it? Perfect for stress relief.”

Jacaerys leaned in, the closeness sending an unexpected warmth through you. His nose wrinkled as he inhaled, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his expression.

"Calming? It smells like... old socks."

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Only because you don’t know what to look for. Trust me, in the right hands, it works wonders.”

He shot you a sideways glance, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "In your hands, I’m sure it does."

The words hung between you, and though they were casual, they carried a weight you couldn’t quite ignore. You glanced up at him, finding his gaze once more. 

You could have let it linger, but instead, you cleared your throat, standing abruptly. "I should head back to the chambers and start working on this tonic. It won’t make itself,"

You started to gather your herbs, your movements quick and purposeful. You tried to shake off the tension that still hung in the air, but Jacaerys’ presence was hard to ignore.

“Wait,” Jacaerys said, stepping closer. “I’d love to help with the tonic, if you’d have me.”

You hesitated, looking up at him with surprise. You raised an eyebrow, feigning contemplation. “Are you sure you want to trade the view of the cliffs for a kitchen filled with herbs and potions?”

He grinned, a playful sparkle in his eyes. “I’d trade anything to spend more time with you.”

The flutter in your chest intensified, but you pushed it aside. “Alright, then. I’ll need an extra pair of hands. But be warned, it might get a bit messy.”

Jacaerys laughed, a sound that mingled effortlessly with the crash of waves below. “Messy sounds like fun. Lead the way.”

When you reached your chambers, you paused by the door, holding out a sprig of lavender. “Here,” you said, your voice slightly hesitant. “Take this for your chambers. It’ll help with relaxation, especially after all the stress.”

Jacaerys accepted the sprig with a genuine smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I’ll make sure to keep it close.”

Without a second thought, he tucked the lavender behind his ear, where it nestled among his dark hair. He offered you a cheeky smile, his gaze met yours, and there was a gentle, playful light in his eyes, as if he had just shared a secret with you and the world around you had receded, leaving only the two of you in its warm embrace.

You found yourself momentarily lost in the way the lavender added a touch of whimsy to his otherwise princely appearance. It was a small, almost insignificant gesture, but it transformed him into something unexpectedly beautiful, a blend of the regal and the endearing.

You couldn’t help but smile, admiring how the lavender seemed to accentuate his features. “You look quite charming,” you remarked, unable to resist the compliment.

Jacaerys blushed slightly, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks. "You think so?" Jacaerys asked, his voice tinged with mock seriousness as he adjusted the lavender, his smile widening.

"Absolutely," you replied, your own smile growing as you observed the slight flush that colored his cheeks.

“I suppose I’ll have to make sure to wear it often then."

And he did, each time you saw Jacaerys, there was the lavender – a constant reminder of that afternoon. It became a part of him, woven into the very fabric of his routine, and its presence was a silent testament to something unspoken.

You noticed it the first time he arrived at your herbarium, the soft purple hue of lavender peeking from his pocket. It seemed to bring a new kind of lightness to his demeanor, as if the charm of the flower was somehow intertwined with the growing affection you sensed in his gaze. After he saw your faint blush on your face, and the small smile you tried to hide when you noticed it, he’d started to wear it every day.

Rhaenyra’s invitation to join the court had been a momentous occasion for Jacaerys. At eighteen, he was eager to embrace the responsibilities and privileges of a more mature role within the castle, seeing it as a step towards adulthood. 

The dynamic between you and Jacaerys shifted, though the change was subtle and gradual. There was a newfound awareness in the way you interacted, a heightened sense of connection that simmered just beneath the surface of your everyday conversations.

You would find yourselves lingering a beat too long in each other's company, fingers brushing as you passed one another in the castle corridors. Stolen glances across crowded rooms held a weight that had been absent before, and the easy laughter that had once flowed so freely between you now carried an undercurrent of nervous energy.

Yet, through it all, your friendship remained steadfast. You continued to seek each other out, drawn together by an unspoken bond that defied the conventions of court life. Whether it was trading stories in the gardens or simply enjoying the comfortable silence of each other's presence, there was a sense of security and belonging that you found in Jacaerys' company.

It was during one of these chance encounters that you truly began to realize how much things had changed between you. You had been walking through a secluded part of the castle grounds, lost in thought, when you quite literally bumped into Jacaerys as he rounded a corner.

"Oh!" you exclaimed, stumbling slightly. Jacaerys' hands shot out to steady you, gripping your arms gently but firmly.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. But as you looked up to meet his gaze, you saw something else there too – a warmth, an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

You nodded, suddenly very aware of how close you were standing, of the warmth of his hands on your arms. "I'm fine," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

Jacaerys didn't immediately let go, his thumbs tracing small, unconscious circles on your skin. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself leaning in ever so slightly, drawn by some invisible force.

For a moment, you both stood there, frozen in time. The air around you seemed to hum with possibility, with all the words left unsaid between you. Jacaerys' gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest of seconds before snapping back up to your eyes, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

"I..." he began, his voice husky. But whatever he had been about to say was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps and voices.

You both stepped apart quickly, the spell broken. A group of courtiers rounded the corner, their chatter filling the once-quiet space. Jacaerys ran a hand through his hair, looking flustered.

"I should go," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "I have a meeting with my mother and the council."

You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment. "Of course. I'll see you later?"

Jacaerys smiled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Count on it," he replied, his voice warm with promise.

As he walked away, you couldn't help but feel that something fundamental had shifted between you. The easy friendship of your childhood was evolving into something deeper, more complex. And while part of you yearned to explore these new feelings, another part hesitated, aware of the complications that could arise.

After all, Jacaerys was a prince, heir to the Iron Throne. And you, despite your father's position at court, were still just a noble's daughter. The gap between your stations, which had seemed inconsequential in childhood, now loomed large and imposing.

But as you watched Jacaerys disappear around a corner, his tall figure cutting a striking silhouette against the stone walls of the castle, you couldn't quite bring yourself to care about the potential obstacles. There was something growing between you, something that felt important, even vital.

And unbeknownst to both of you, high above in the Dragonpit, Vermax stirred in his sleep, his golden eyes fluttering open for a moment as if sensing the shift in the air. The dragon let out a low, rumbling purr before settling back down, a sound that seemed to echo with satisfaction and anticipation.

As promised, you sought him out, as you walked the castle grounds, you stumbled upon Jacaerys in a quiet alcove, poring over a stack of parchments. His brow was furrowed in concentration, a sight that was both endearing and familiar.

"Hiding away from the world, I see," you teased, your voice light and playful as you approached.

Jacaerys looked up, a warm smile spreading across his lips. "Hardly. I'm simply attempting to make sense of these endless reports. Surely you know how tedious court life can be."

You nodded, settling down beside him on the stone bench. "I do, indeed. But I must say, you seem to be handling the burden with more grace than I ever could."

Jacaerys chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Practice, I suppose. Though I have to admit, it's much easier to bear when you're around to distract me."

The words hung in the air, charged with a subtle flirtation that sent a flutter through your chest. You met his gaze, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"Is that so? Well, in that case, I'll be sure to interrupt your work more often."

Jacaerys leaned in, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Please do. I find I'm in dire need of a distraction."

The air between you crackled with an undeniable tension, and for a moment, you were both lost in the intensity of the moment. It was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, your hearts beating in sync as you lingered in each other's space.

Eventually, Jacaerys cleared his throat, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he turned his attention back to the parchments. "In all seriousness, I could use a break. Would you care to join me for a walk?"

You nodded, the smile on your face widening. "I thought you'd never ask."

As you fell into step beside him, your arms brushing with each stride, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. The tension may have been palpable, but there was also an underlying comfort in the familiarity of your bond. It was as if you had known each other forever, despite the ever-changing nature of the world around you.

The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by bouts of laughter and playful banter. Jacaerys spoke of his latest lessons and the frustrations of court politics, while you shared tales of your explorations in the city, weaving vivid descriptions that had him listening with rapt attention.

At one point, as you recounted a particularly harrowing encounter with a flock of noisy geese, Jacaerys reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingertips lingering on your skin. The simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself lost in the warmth of his gaze.

"You know," he murmured, his voice soft and low, "I always enjoy our conversations, but I find myself looking forward to them more and more these days."

You felt your heart flutter, and you couldn't help but lean a little closer, drawn to the intensity of his presence. "As do I, Jacaerys. As do I."

"I thought I'd enjoy court a bit more," Jacaerys confessed, his brow furrowed in a slight frown. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the opportunity, but it can be… overwhelming at times.”

You glanced at him, sensing the weight of his words. “It’s a lot to handle, isn’t it?” Reaching for his arm, you linked yours together. “It’s one thing to hear about it, and quite another to live it every day.”

Jacaerys sighed, his gaze wandering over the castle grounds, where the late afternoon sun cast a golden hue on the landscape. “I thought I’d be more prepared, but it seems like the more I try to understand, the less I actually know.”

“You spend every day locked in that dusty library,” you made a face, “Perhaps a change of scenery is exactly what you need.” 

Jacaerys glanced at you, his lips curving into a small, appreciative smile. 

“Or a good distraction,” you added with a playful grin.

He moved your linked arms to elbow your side, his eyes softening with gratitude. “I suppose you’ve been quite the distraction for me. And I’m not sure how I’d have managed without it.”

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words. 

The warmth of Jacaerys' gaze, paired with his words, left you momentarily breathless. There was a sincerity in his voice, a quiet vulnerability that you hadn’t heard from him before. For a brief second, the world around you seemed to blur, the rustling trees and distant clamor of the castle fading into the background. All that remained was the two of you, arm in arm, walking through a world that felt uniquely yours.

“You would’ve managed just fine,” you said, nudging him lightly, trying to keep the mood light despite the flutter in your chest. “But I’m glad to be your distraction anyway.”

Jacaerys' lips twitched into a smile, but his eyes remained focused on you, studying your face as if committing every feature to memory. "Still, I’ve come to appreciate it more than you know."

You turned your head slightly, the afternoon breeze stirring your hair as you walked side by side. There was a new depth to the conversation, an unspoken understanding that your relationship had grown into something beyond friendship. The stolen glances, the accidental brushes of skin, the way your words seemed to hold more meaning than before—it all pointed to a shift that neither of you could ignore any longer.

And yet, you found comfort in how natural it felt. Jacaerys had always been your closest friend, the person you could talk to about anything. That foundation hadn’t changed. If anything, it had only deepened, strengthened by the shared moments and quiet, growing affection between you.

As you passed beneath the shade of an ancient oak tree, Jacaerys slowed his steps, tugging gently on your arm. 

“Wait,” he said softly, glancing up at the sprawling branches that created a cocoon of privacy. The dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting warm golden patterns across his face.

He turned toward you fully, and for the first time, you felt a quiet intensity in the way he looked at you. There was a question in his gaze, though he hadn’t yet voiced it aloud. His fingers, still linked with yours, tightened slightly, and you realized how close you stood to him now, barely an arm’s length apart.

The wind stirred again, a soft breeze that seemed to carry with it the weight of the moment. You felt your heart thudding in your chest, as if echoing his.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and uncertain, like he was tiptoeing around something fragile. 

“Would it be terribly selfish of me to ask for more of your time? Away from… all of this?” He gestured loosely toward the distant castle with his free hand, the spires glinting in the late afternoon sun.

You blinked, taken slightly aback by the request, though your chest warmed at the sincerity in his tone. He wasn’t asking out of politeness, nor was this a casual suggestion. This was something deeper – an unspoken desire for space, for more moments like this one, away from the noise and demands of court. Just you and him.

“I–” you started, unsure how to respond at first. A soft breeze rustled the leaves above, and you realized you didn’t need to think too hard about it. “No,” you said quietly, your smile gentle. “It’s not selfish at all.”

Jacaerys' expression softened in visible relief, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He let out a small breath, one he hadn’t realized he was holding, and his eyes brightened as they met yours. 

"I was hoping you'd say that," he said, the familiar warmth returning to his voice, though the undercurrent of something more remained.

His hand, still linked with yours, tightened ever so slightly, as though he feared you might pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you found yourself leaning into the connection, the warmth of his touch grounding you amidst the fluttering of your heart. 

The world seemed to slow around you, the gentle breeze playing with the strands of your hair, the golden sunlight casting a soft glow across Jacaerys' face. His eyes, those deep, dark pools you had known since childhood, held something new now – an intensity, a vulnerability that made your breath catch.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The leaves above rustled softly, and the distant sounds of the castle faded, leaving only the steady rhythm of your breathing and the quiet tension that hung between you. You could feel the weight of the moment, the way everything seemed to hinge on what might happen next.

Jacaerys stepped closer, just a fraction, but it was enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from him. His free hand lifted hesitantly, as though he wasn’t quite sure if he should, and then he gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I think,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper now, “that I’ve always wanted more time with you. I just… I didn’t know how to ask.”

His words, so simple yet so full of meaning, sent your mind reeling. You had always been close, always shared moments of laughter and quiet companionship, but this—this was something different. It was as if the lines you had both drawn so carefully over the years were blurring, fading into something neither of you could fully understand, but both were willing to explore.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, and met his gaze. “Jacaerys,” The words caught in your throat, unsure of how to express the swirl of emotions inside you. But the look in his eyes told you that he understood, that he didn’t need you to say anything just yet.

His hand lingered near your face, his fingers lightly grazing your cheek. For a moment, it seemed like the whole world held its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

But before you could speak again, before either of you could close the distance between you, a voice called out from the castle. A courtier, no doubt, summoning Jacaerys back to his duties.

The moment shattered like glass, the spell broken by the harsh reality of the world beyond the oak’s sheltering branches. Jacaerys pulled back, his expression one of reluctant resignation, though his fingers lingered on yours for just a heartbeat longer before slipping away.

“I…” he began, his voice strained. “I have to go.”

You nodded, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin. “I know.”

But as he turned to leave, he hesitated, casting one last look over his shoulder. His gaze met yours, and in that moment, it felt like a promise, unspoken yet understood. There would be more time, more moments like this – when the world didn’t press in so tightly, when you could simply be Jacaerys and yourself, without the weight of court life bearing down on you.

And with that, he was gone, his figure disappearing down the path toward the castle, leaving you standing alone beneath the oak, the fluttering leaves above a soft reminder of what had almost been.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself increasingly aware of Jacaerys' presence in your life. 

You began to notice the little things, the small gestures that spoke volumes about Jacaerys' growing affection. The way he would seek you out in crowded rooms, his eyes lighting up when they found yours. The gentle brush of his hand against yours as you walked side by side through the castle corridors. The way he listened intently when you spoke, hanging on your every word as if they were precious gems.

One particular evening, you found yourself in the castle library, surrounded by towering shelves of ancient tomes. You had been searching for a specific book on herbal remedies, standing on tiptoe to reach a high shelf, when you felt a presence behind you.

"Allow me," Jacaerys' voice came softly, his breath warm against your ear as he reached past you to pluck the book from its perch.

You turned, finding yourself face to face with the prince, barely a breath of space between you. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice catching slightly as you met his gaze.

Jacaerys’ fingers lingered on the spine of the book, his proximity causing your pulse to quicken. You could smell the faint scent of leather and parchment mingling with something distinctly him, a subtle warmth that made the space between you feel smaller, more intimate. The soft light from the library’s candles flickered, casting shadows on his face and highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw that had grown more defined with age.

"You're welcome," he murmured, his voice low and filled with an unfamiliar weight. It was his nameday today, turning nine and ten, and though the castle had been buzzing with celebration all day, it was this quiet moment in the library that felt the most significant. The festivities seemed far away, drowned out by the quiet hum of his presence beside you.

You felt a nervous flutter in your chest, one you couldn’t quite control, as you tried to speak, to break the silence that hung between you like a fragile thread. “I didn’t expect you here,” you said softly, your fingers brushing the edge of the book he’d handed you. “Shouldn’t you be at your nameday feast?”

Jacaerys smiled, a small, almost sheepish curve of his lips that sent warmth through you. “I should be,” he admitted, his eyes holding yours. “But I needed some air... and maybe a bit of quiet. It’s overwhelming sometimes.”

You nodded, understanding immediately. The weight of expectation that came with his name, his birthright, was always heavy. "I imagine it must be. All those people, eyes on you."

He let out a soft sigh, his hand brushing against yours as he shifted the book to you more securely. “Exactly. And... well, I was hoping to find you.”

Your heart skipped at his words, and you blinked up at him, momentarily lost for a reply. 

“I’m glad you did,” you managed to say, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

Jacaerys stepped just a fraction closer, the space between you shrinking as he tilted his head slightly, his expression softening. His lips quirked into a playful smile, the kind that had always made your heart stumble in your chest. 

"You wouldn’t believe the amount of gifts I’ve been forced to graciously accept today," he said, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “Half the court is vying for a chance to be in my good graces, hoping one of their children might become my future Hand when I take the throne.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as if the thought were absurd, though you knew the pressures that came with his title weighed on him more than he liked to admit. There was something in his eyes – an unspoken weariness, a hint of the heavy responsibility he bore, even as he tried to make light of it.

You couldn’t help but smile, the image of Jacaerys surrounded by lavish gifts from eager courtiers painting a rather amusing picture in your mind. "Let me guess, dozens of finely crafted swords, books you’ll never read, and enough embroidered tunics to last you a lifetime?"

“More than I know what to do with,” he said with a dramatic sigh, leaning a little closer, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you. “One lord even gifted me a statue of a dragon, carved from some rare stone. It weighs more than Vermax himself, I swear.”

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet of the library, and for a moment, it felt like the world had melted away, leaving just the two of you in this small, secluded space. “What are you going to do with all of it?”

“I’m thinking of donating it to the maesters,” he said, his voice playful but with an undertone of sincerity. “They’re always looking for more clutter, aren’t they?”

His humor was infectious, and you found yourself grinning, shaking your head at him. “They’d probably find a way to use it in some lesson about the history of Valyria.”

Jacaerys chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and something softer, deeper. The air between you grew thick again, the earlier tension returning, but this time, it felt different. Less uncertain, more sure. 

He lifted his hand, slowly, tentatively, as though he were testing the boundaries of whatever was blossoming between you. His fingers brushed lightly against your wrist, tracing the skin there in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. The gentle touch was intimate, delicate, as though he were savoring the moment, reluctant to let it end.

"You know," he began, his voice barely above a whisper now, "all those presents – they don’t mean anything. Not really." His gaze locked with yours, the intensity in his eyes making your breath catch. "I only wanted one thing today."

Your heart raced, your pulse quickening under his touch, and you found yourself leaning in ever so slightly, drawn to him in a way that felt both natural and terrifying.

“And what’s that?” you asked softly, your voice barely more

Jacaerys’ eyes never left yours as he spoke, his voice low and soft, a quiet intimacy threading through his words. “You,” he said, the single word hanging in the air between you like a confession, vulnerable and raw.

Your breath hitched, heart pounding so loudly that you were sure he could hear it in the stillness of the library. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. All you could feel was the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his hand against your wrist, and the undeniable pull that had been building between you for what felt like years.

His fingers tightened ever so slightly on your wrist, a silent plea, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. 

“I’ve spent so much time in the court,” he said quietly, his voice low and filled with the weight of his thoughts. “Handling affairs, playing the part of the prince, always doing what’s expected of me. But lately… I’ve missed you.” His words carried an ache, as if the time apart had been a slow, painful realization of what he truly wanted. 

Your heart fluttered at his words, the depth of his confession settling over you like a warm blanket. You felt a tightening in your chest, the emotions you’d been trying to keep at bay now rushing to the surface.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you reached into the folds of your dress and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package. You had agonized over this gift for weeks, wanting it to be perfect.

"I have something for you," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "For your nameday."

Jacaerys' eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and curiosity crossing his features. He loosened his grip on your wrist, allowing you to place the gift in his hand.

"You didn't have to–" he began, but you shook your head, silencing him with a gentle smile.

"I wanted to," you assured him. "I suppose you can add this to the mountain of gifts you've received today. Though it might get lost among all those rare stone dragons." you jested.

Jacaerys chuckled softly, but his eyes remained intense as they held yours. "Anything from you could never get lost in a pile," he murmured, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your wrist. "It already stands out from anything any lord could offer."

Your breath caught at his words, the depth of feeling behind them unmistakable. Jacaerys glanced down at the small package in his hand, his fingers running over the careful wrapping.

"Aren't you going to open it?" you asked, suddenly feeling a bit nervous about your choice of gift.

Jacaerys shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Not yet," he said. "I want to savor this moment a little longer."

Your heart raced as you realized how close you were standing, the warmth of his body radiating towards you in the quiet of the library. Without overthinking, you leaned in and pressed a soft, quick kiss to his cheek.

"Happy nameday, Jace," you whispered, your lips brushing his skin as you spoke.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze once more. His eyes were wide with surprise, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the charged atmosphere between you.

Then, gathering your courage, you took a small step back. "I should go," you said softly, though every part of you wanted to stay. "You have a feast to return to, after all."

Jacaerys nodded, seemingly still stunned by your gesture. As you turned to leave, you glanced back over your shoulder. Jacaerys stood there, the small package clutched in one hand. The look on his face was one of wonder and longing, as if he had just been given the most precious gift in all the Seven Kingdoms.

He smiled to himself, a mixture of joy and longing filling his chest. As he finally moved to rejoin his nameday feast, he knew that this moment – this gift – would be the one he cherished most from this day forward.

In the days that followed your moment with Jacaerys in the library, you noticed a distinct change in Vermax's behavior. The dragon, always attentive to you before, now seemed utterly determined not to let you out of his sight.

It started the very next morning. As you made your way to the herb gardens, a familiar shadow fell over you. Looking up, you saw Vermax circling overhead, his bronze scales glinting in the early sunlight. You thought nothing of it at first – the dragon often flew over the castle grounds. But as you reached the gardens and began your work, you realized Vermax had landed nearby and was watching you intently.

"Hello there," you called out, amused by his intense gaze. "Come to help with the weeding?"

Vermax huffed, a puff of warm air ruffling your hair. He settled himself more comfortably on the grass, his tail curling around him like a cat. His golden eyes never left you as you went about your tasks.

As the day wore on, Vermax's presence became a constant. When you moved to a different part of the garden, he would follow, sometimes knocking over pots or uprooting plants in his eagerness to stay close. You found yourself having to work around him, like a gardener might work around a particularly large and scaly cat.

"You're being rather clingy today, aren't you?" you muttered, reaching around his massive form to grab a watering can. Vermax merely blinked slowly at you, looking utterly content.

The pattern continued over the next few days. Whenever you left your chambers, Vermax would appear, following you around the castle’s outings with a single-minded determination. He would curl up outside the great hall while you dined, much to the bewilderment of the other courtiers. During your walks in the castle grounds, he would lumber along beside you, occasionally nudging you with his snout as if seeking attention.

One afternoon, as you sat in a quiet corner of the courtyard, attempting to read, Vermax decided your lap looked like the perfect place to rest his head. You found yourself with a lapful of warm, scaly dragon, your book forgotten as you absently stroked the ridges along his snout.

"What's gotten into you?" you wondered aloud, scratching behind one of his horns. Vermax rumbled contentedly, his eyes half-closed in bliss.

It was during one of these moments that Jacaerys found you. His eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sight of his usually aloof dragon behaving like an overgrown housecat.

"Well, this is new," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I've been looking for him all morning. Should have known he'd be with you."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, remembering your last encounter in the library. "He's been... rather attentive lately," you explained, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jacaerys moved closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Attentive? It looks like he's adopted you."

Vermax opened one eye to look at his rider, then promptly closed it again, snuggling closer to you. You couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm not sure what I've done to deserve such devotion," you said, your fingers still absently stroking Vermax's scales.

Jacaerys' expression softened, his gaze moving from Vermax to you. "I think I might have an idea," he said softly, so quietly that you almost missed it.

For a heartbeat, you didn’t dare breathe. You had heard the whispers – the soft murmurings that floated through the halls of the castle, spoken behind fans and shared in hushed tones over goblets of wine. They were the same rumors that had always been dismissed as mere fables: ancient tales about dragons and soulmates, myths that most of the court laughed off as fantastical relics from a bygone era.

You had grown up with the legends, just as any child of Westeros had. It was said that in the ancient days of Old Valyria, dragons could sense the one person destined for their rider, a bond so profound it went beyond even the magical connection between rider and dragon. This connection was rare, deeper than anything known to man, and some believed it tied the fates of the rider, dragon, and soulmate together, forever.

But those were only stories, weren’t they?

The thought made your heart race, even as Vermax nudged your hand, demanding more attention. 

Jacaerys seemed to sense your hesitation. He sat down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours, the warmth of his presence both reassuring and unnerving. The weight of those whispered legends hung in the air between you, heavy with possibilities neither of you dared voice. You could feel the question in the space between you, but neither of you seemed willing to give it life, to allow the old stories to weave themselves into your reality.

Vermax huffed contentedly, his golden eyes half-lidded as you continued to stroke his scales. The warmth of the dragon’s presence, combined with Jacaerys’ closeness, made the world feel smaller, more intimate. And yet, the thought of those legends, of the connection they hinted at, stirred something deep within you.

But you weren’t ready to confront that – not yet.

Jacaerys cleared his throat softly, breaking the silence with a casual tone, though you could hear the undercurrent of something more in his voice. "Vermax has always had a mind of his own. I suppose it’s not so strange that he’s taken a liking to you." His words were light, but there was a subtle tension in them, as if he, too, was choosing his words carefully.

You let out a quiet laugh, grateful for the shift in conversation. "He’s a bit of a menace, truth be told," you teased, brushing some dirt from your hands. "I don’t think I’ve ever had a dragon try to uproot my herb garden before."

Jacaerys grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he glanced at Vermax. "He has a habit of getting in the way. I’m surprised you’ve managed to work around him."

You shrugged, smiling despite yourself. "I’ve learned to make do. Besides, it’s not every day you get a dragon for company. He’s surprisingly good at weeding, though I’m not sure he knows that’s what he’s doing."

Jacaerys chuckled, and the sound eased the tension in your chest. For a few moments, the weight of the unspoken words between you lightened, and you both fell into an easy rhythm, the kind that had defined your friendship over the years.

"I suppose I should count myself lucky," you continued, your voice teasing. "Not many people can say they have a dragon who’s decided to follow them around like a lost pup."

Jacaerys leaned back on his hands, gazing at Vermax with a fond smile. "I think you’ve charmed him," he said, his tone playful but gentle. "Though, to be fair, you tend to have that effect on people."

"I think it’s the herbs. Maybe he likes the smell."

Jacaerys turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that made your heart skip. Your heart raced as Jacaerys' eyes dropped to your lips, his breathing slowing ever so slightly. 

You watched as Jacaerys’ gaze flicked back to your eyes, the intensity there nearly making you forget how to breathe. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you. His face leaned closer, his lips only a breath away from yours, and the heat of his proximity made your pulse quicken.

Vermax, sensing none of this, shifted lazily beside you, his warm breath ruffling your hair as you absentmindedly stroked his scales. The dragon’s presence had always been comforting, but now, with Jacaerys so close, you felt a different kind of warmth, one that had nothing to do with the huge dragon lying next to you.

Jacaerys cleared his throat again, but this time, the sound was more hesitant, as if he were about to wade into dangerous waters. He glanced down at his hands before turning back to you, his voice quieter now, almost cautious. 

"Have you ever… thought about marriage?" His tone was casual, but you could hear the tension beneath it, the way he was testing the waters with the question.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. You hadn’t expected him to ask something like that – not after years of avoiding the topic, of keeping your interactions light and playful. The mention of marriage, especially from Jacaerys, felt like stepping too close to the edge of something vast and unknown.

"Marriage?" you repeated softly, buying yourself time as your mind raced. 

You glanced at him, searching his face for clues, for some indication of what he was really asking. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a strange intensity that made your stomach twist with nerves.

"Yes," he said, his voice steady, though you could sense the underlying current of uncertainty. "I mean… you must know it’s a topic that comes up often in court. Especially for someone like you. I imagine there have been offers."

You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. It wasn’t that the subject hadn’t crossed your mind – of course it had. You were of an age where most noblewomen were already spoken for, and though your father had never pressured you, there had been whispers, suggestions from the court that a match should be made soon. But you had always brushed those conversations aside, content with your life, with the simple joys of herbcraft and your time with Jacaerys.

"Offers, yes," you admitted after a moment, your voice quieter now. "But I’ve never taken any of them seriously."

Jacaerys tilted his head slightly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read your thoughts. "Why not?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain some semblance of nonchalance, though your heart was racing in your chest. "I suppose I’ve never felt… connected to them in that way." The words felt heavier than you intended, and you quickly glanced away, focusing on Vermax instead of the prince beside you.

For a long moment, Jacaerys said nothing. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, and though you were tempted to fill the silence, something held you back, as if speaking too soon might unravel whatever fragile thread was holding the moment together.

"I see," Jacaerys finally said, his voice soft but laced with something unspoken. 

His eyes searched yours, as though he were trying to decipher the meaning behind your words – your hesitation, the quiet way you had admitted to have been looking for love. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and though Vermax lay contentedly beside you, his warmth comforting, it did nothing to quell the flutter of nerves building inside you.

"What about you?" you asked, your voice softer now, almost hesitant. "I imagine you've had many offers as well."

Jacaerys' expression shifted, the playful edge that had always been a hallmark of your friendship disappearing entirely. His face grew serious, his gaze lowering as he seemed to consider your question. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer, that perhaps you had ventured too far into territory neither of you were ready to explore.

But then he sighed, his voice quieter than before, almost reflective. "There have been offers," he admitted, his tone neutral but with an undercurrent of tension. "Plenty of them, actually. It comes with the title. People see a future king and want to secure their place in that future."

His words felt distant, like they belonged to someone else, someone far removed from the boy you had grown up with. You could hear the weight of his responsibilities in his voice, the burden of being a prince, always expected to make decisions not just for himself but for an entire kingdom. 

"And yet," he continued, his eyes lifting to meet yours once more, "none of them ever felt right."

Your breath caught at his words. You hesitated, unsure of how to navigate the delicate tension between you. "Why not?" you asked softly, echoing his earlier question to you.

Jacaerys smiled, though it was a small, almost wistful expression, as if he were contemplating something he wasn’t sure he should say. His hand, which had been resting on the grass beside him, inched closer to yours, the tips of his fingers barely brushing against your own. The touch sent a shiver through you, a subtle but undeniable connection.

"I suppose," he began slowly, his voice thoughtful, "I’ve been waiting for something… more." He paused, glancing away for a brief moment before looking back at you. "Someone I feel connected to. Someone I trust. Someone who sees me, not just the prince."

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The silence stretched on, charged with the unsaid, the emotions neither of you could fully express. The space between you felt smaller, more intimate, as if the world outside this moment had faded into nothing.

Jacaerys shifted slightly, his hand finally closing the distance between you, his fingers curling around yours. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were still testing the waters of whatever was growing between you. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, and the simple gesture sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the dragon resting beside you.

"Do you think…" he began, his voice barely above a whisper now, "that it’s possible for someone like me to have that? To choose for myself?"

Your breath hitched at his question, and for a moment, you were unsure how to answer. Jacaerys, the future king, bound by duty and responsibility, was asking you something so personal, so vulnerable. The weight of his title, his future, pressed down on both of you, and yet, here in this quiet moment, it felt as though it was just the two of you, free from the expectations of the world.

"I think," you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest, "if anyone deserves to choose, it’s you."

Your words seemed to settle over him, a quiet reassurance that made the tension in his shoulders ease just a fraction. He gave you a small, grateful smile, one that made your chest tighten with something you weren’t ready to name.

Finally, Jacaerys broke the silence, his voice soft and filled with a quiet resolve. "Maybe one day," he said, his thumb still tracing slow circles on your hand, "we’ll both get to choose."

The weight of Jacaerys' words lingered in the air between you, a tangible presence that seemed to weave its way into the very fabric of the moment. You could feel the quiet intensity of his gaze, his thumb still brushing against your hand, a gentle, rhythmic motion that seemed to steady both of you.

His hand remained entwined with yours, and you noticed the way his fingers moved, absently tracing the lines of your palm. There was a tenderness in his touch, a delicate acknowledgment of the closeness that had grown between you.

As if to seal the moment, Jacaerys leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand. The sensation was warm and electrifying, sending a shiver up your arm. His lips lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and the intimacy of the gesture made your heart race. His fingers played with yours, the touch light and exploratory, a silent communication that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

Jacaerys’ eyes met yours, and in that look, you saw a reflection of your own feelings – a mixture of hope, uncertainty, and an undeniable connection. His hand remained in yours, a comforting presence that felt both familiar and new.

The quiet was filled with the unspoken, the space between you charged with possibilities. The weight of your shared silence felt like a cocoon, wrapping you both in a moment that was yours alone, away from the eyes and expectations of the world outside.

Finally, Jacaerys’ lips curved into a small, genuine smile, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "I should probably go," he said softly, though he made no move to leave. "There's a council meeting I'm meant to attend."

You nodded, understanding the weight of his responsibilities, even as a part of you wished he could stay. "Of course," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "Duty calls."

Jacaerys sighed, his eyes never leaving yours. "It always does," he murmured, a hint of resignation in his tone. But then his expression softened, and he added, "Though I find myself wishing it didn't, at least not when I'm with you."

The admission hung in the air between you, laden with unspoken meaning. You felt a flutter in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness at the implications of his words.

Vermax, who had been contentedly dozing beside you, stirred slightly. The dragon lifted his head, his golden eyes flickering between you and Jacaerys as if sensing the shift in mood.

"I think someone's getting jealous," you teased lightly, grateful for the momentary distraction from the intensity of the moment.

Jacaerys chuckled, reaching out to pat Vermax's snout. "He's not the only one who enjoys your company," he said, his voice low and tinged with meaning.

He stood slowly, reluctantly releasing your hand. As he did, his fingers trailed along your palm, a lingering touch that sent shivers down your spine.

"Perhaps," he began, a hint of hesitation in his voice, "we could continue this conversation another time? Away from prying eyes and dragon chaperones?"

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. "I'd like that," you replied softly.

Jacaerys' face lit up with a warmth that made your heart swell. He took a step back, his eyes still locked with yours. "Until then," he said, his voice filled with promise.

As he turned to leave, Vermax huffed, a small puff of smoke curling from his nostrils. The dragon's gaze followed his rider, then settled back on you, as if to say he'd be keeping watch.

You sat there for a moment longer, your hand still tingling from Jacaerys' touch, your mind replaying the conversation. The weight of what had transpired, of the words spoken and unspoken, settled over you like a warm blanket.

The days passed in a haze, the absence of Jacaerys more palpable than you had expected. His words, his touch, the warmth of his presence lingered with you, like a song you couldn’t quite shake from your thoughts. Every hour felt drawn out, the stillness of your chambers amplifying the emptiness that came with his absence.

You tried to busy yourself, distracting your mind with small tasks, but nothing seemed to quell the gnawing sensation that something was missing. Jacaerys’ parting words had left a subtle hum beneath your skin, a quiet longing that you couldn’t quite place, or maybe didn’t want to.

By the time night fell, the soft glow of the candlelight casting long shadows against the walls, you found yourself sitting by the window, your thoughts wandering back to him. You hadn’t expected to miss him this much. The bond you shared had grown in such a quiet, natural way, yet now that he was gone, the absence felt stark and undeniable.

The evening stretched on, and you were beginning to resign yourself to the solitude when a soft knock sounded at your door. Your heart leapt before you could even think.

Rising quickly, you crossed the room and pulled the door open, and there he was – Jacaerys, standing in the dim light of the corridor, a smile brighter than the candles behind him. His eyes sparkled, and there was an undeniable energy about him, a joy that radiated from his very being. 

"Jace," you breathed, a wave of relief washing over you. You hadn’t realized just how much you missed him until now, until he was standing here, looking at you with that familiar warmth in his eyes.

He stepped inside before you could say anything more, and the door closed softly behind him. There was an almost giddy excitement in his movements as he crossed the room toward you. 

His eyes were bright, his smile wide and unguarded in a way you'd rarely seen before. There was a lightness to his steps, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"I've missed you," he said softly, his voice filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm in a gentle, almost reverent touch.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his words and the intensity of his gaze. "I've missed you too," you admitted, surprised by how easily the truth slipped out. "You seem... happy."

Jacaerys' smile grew even wider, if that was possible. He took another step closer, closing the distance between you until you could feel the warmth of his breath. 

His fingers, resting against your arm, traced a soft, soothing pattern, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I am happy," he said, his voice low, filled with that same lightness. His eyes held yours, and for a brief moment, it felt like there was no one else in the world, just the two of you standing in the quiet intimacy of your chambers.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as Jacaerys took another small step closer, closing the already narrow gap between you. His hand slid gently down your arm, capturing your hand in his, his fingers lacing with yours as if they belonged there.

“I’ve been waiting all day to see you,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper, and there was something in his tone that tugged at your heart – something deeper, more meaningful, than just his words.

Your pulse quickened at his closeness, at the way his gaze never left yours. “It’s only been a few days, Jace,” you teased lightly, though the emotion in your voice betrayed the longing you had felt in his absence.

He chuckled softly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand, a familiar, soothing gesture that now held an extra layer of intimacy. “A day can feel like an eternity when you’re away from someone important,” he murmured, his eyes softening with sincerity.

There was something about the way he looked at you tonight, something in his touch, in the subtle tension between you that felt different – heavier, more charged. As if the unspoken things that had lingered between you were finally on the verge of surfacing.

“What happened today?” you asked quietly, your curiosity growing stronger. He had been away all day, and yet here he was, practically glowing with happiness. It was as though something had shifted, and though you didn’t know what it was, you could sense the importance of it in every move he made.

Jacaerys hesitated for a moment, his smile faltering ever so slightly, as if he was carefully considering how to answer. His hand squeezed yours gently, reassuringly, before he spoke again. “I spoke to my mother,” he said, his voice holding a note of quiet significance.

You tilted your head, your brows furrowing in confusion. “About what?” you asked softly, though your heart was already beginning to race, sensing that whatever conversation he had with his mother had something to do with you.

He exhaled slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though there was a flicker of nervousness in his eyes now.

Jacaerys took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. When he spoke, his voice was soft, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

"Do you remember," he began, "when we were children? How I used to follow you around the castle, always trying to be wherever you were?"

You nodded, a fond smile tugging at your lips. "Of course. You were like my shadow."

He chuckled softly, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your hand. "I was, wasn't I? Back then, I didn't understand why. I just knew that being near you made me happy. It was... instinctive, I suppose. The way love often is for children."

Your breath caught at the word 'love', but Jacaerys continued, his voice growing more earnest.

"As we grew older, I started to hear the whispers. The stories that would float through the halls, passed between servants and nobles alike. Tales of a connection so rare and profound that even dragons could sense it."

He paused, his eyes searching yours, as if gauging your reaction. "I never put much stock in those stories. They seemed like fairy tales, meant for songs and legends, not for real life. But then..."

Jacaerys' free hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light and reverent. "Then I realized that after all these years, I still feel the same way. That instinct to be near you, to seek out your company, to find joy in your presence – it never faded. If anything, it's only grown stronger."

Your heart was pounding now, each beat echoing in your ears. Jacaerys' words hung in the air between you, heavy with implication and unspoken emotion.

"Jace," you whispered, your voice barely audible. 

He smiled then, a soft, vulnerable expression that made him look younger, more open than you'd ever seen him. "I spoke to my mother today about something I've known in my heart for a long time. Something I think – I hope – you might feel too."

Jacaerys took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "I asked her for permission to court you. Properly, openly, with the intention of... of marriage, if you'll have me."

The world seemed to still around you, narrowing down to just this moment, just the two of you standing in the soft candlelight of your chambers. Jacaerys' words echoed in your mind, each one carrying the weight of years of unspoken feelings, of a connection that had grown so gradually and yet so powerfully that it took your breath away.

"Jace," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're the prince, the future king. Surely there are political considerations, alliances to be made-"

He shook his head, cutting off your words with a gentle squeeze of your hand. "I don't care about politics or alliances," he said firmly. "Not when it comes to this. Not when it comes to us. I want to choose for myself, remember? And I choose you. I've always chosen you."

Your heart felt like it might burst from your chest, a mix of joy and disbelief coursing through you. "And your mother? What did she say?"

Jacaerys' smile widened, his eyes sparkling with barely contained happiness. "She said yes. She said she's known for years that this was where my heart lay. And she... she approves. Of you. Of us."

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the enormity of what Jacaerys was offering. A future together, open and acknowledged, no longer hidden in stolen moments and meaningful glances.

"I... I don't know what to say." you murmured, your free hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. 

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. "Say yes," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "Say you'll let me court you, that you'll consider a future with me. That's all I ask."

The joy that lit up Jacaerys' face was radiant, brighter than any dawn you'd ever seen. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. You could feel his heart racing, matching the rhythm of your own.Your throat tightened, words catching somewhere deep inside as you stared into Jacaerys' eyes. His forehead pressed softly against yours, his breath warm and steady, while your heart raced uncontrollably. The truth of everything he had said wrapped around you, too much to process all at once. You had dreamed of this – of him – but you never imagined hearing it, feeling it, like this.

Your chest swelled with emotions too big to contain, the joy so sharp it almost hurt. A smile tugged at your lips, so wide it made your face ache, but you couldn’t stop it. You didn’t want to stop it.

Jacaerys was offering you everything. A future, his heart, and the freedom to choose him. His words echoed in your mind, soft but sure: I choose you.

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t trust yourself to speak without your voice cracking. All you could feel was the overwhelming happiness surging through you. He wanted this. He wanted you. The enormity of it all made you dizzy.

Without thinking, without planning, you moved – instinct, just like he said. Your hand tightened slightly on his chest, pulling him closer, your heart hammering as you closed the distance between you.

Jacaerys barely had time to react before your lips met his, soft and sudden, a rush of emotion driving the kiss. His breath hitched in surprise, but it only took a heartbeat for him to respond, his free hand sliding to the small of your back, gently drawing you closer.

His fingers pressed gently into your skin, grounding you both in the here and now, in the quiet certainty of what was happening between you. What started as a tender, soft press of lips quickly became more – a release of everything unsaid, everything that had simmered between you for so long. His mouth moved against yours with urgency, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other tightening its hold on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands, tugging slightly, and you felt Jacaerys’ breath hitch against your lips. His mouth parted, and without hesitation, you responded in kind, the kiss growing wetter, more breathy as his tongue slid against yours in a slow, tantalizing dance. The taste of him, warm and intoxicating, made your knees weak, but Jacaerys held you steady, his body pressed firmly against yours.

The room felt smaller now, the air charged with the heat between you. His touch was everywhere – his hands roving across your back, your sides, as if trying to memorize the shape of you. You gasped softly into the kiss as his fingers trailed down your spine, the sensation sending shivers through your body. 

Every breath was shared, every movement synchronizing as you poured every unspoken word, every hidden desire, into this moment. His lips, soft and insistent, claimed yours with a raw, palpable need, his tongue flicking gently against yours, teasing, exploring, drawing small, breathless sounds from you that only spurred him on.

The world outside ceased to exist, fading into nothingness as Jacaerys pressed you back against the nearest wall, his body solid and warm against yours. His kiss grew more passionate, his breath ragged as he angled his head, deepening the connection between you. The taste of him, mixed with the faint scent of salt and wind from the sea, enveloped your senses, making you dizzy with want.

You could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours as his lips parted further, the kiss becoming open, wetter, more desperate. He kissed you like a man who had waited years to do so – his lips, his tongue, exploring you with a reverence that made your pulse race, made your skin burn.

His hand slid down your side, lingering at your hip before pulling you flush against him, and the feel of his body pressed against yours made a low, breathy sigh escape your throat. You felt Jacaerys respond, a soft groan rumbling deep in his chest as his hand slipped beneath your tunic, his fingers skimming the bare skin at your waist. The touch was gentle, reverent, but it sent a fire through your veins.

He broke the kiss for only a moment, his forehead resting against yours, both of you gasping for air, breaths mingling in the heated space between you. His eyes, dark with desire, searched yours, and in that brief moment of silence, you saw everything – years of unspoken feelings, of longing, of love. 

Jacaerys' breath came in short, ragged bursts, his forehead still pressed against yours as he tried to steady himself. His fingers, warm and trembling, grazed the skin at your waist, the sensation grounding you both in this fragile, beautiful moment. 

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, breathy, but filled with a raw honesty that made your heart clench. "I used to believe," he whispered, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, "that you were a gift... sent by the gods." His thumb traced a slow, reverent circle along your hip, his gaze searching your face like he was still in awe that you were here, with him. "Even when I was little, I thought... maybe they made you just for me. Maybe that's why... I could never stay away."

His words wrapped around your heart, tightening with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. Jacaerys had always been a steady presence, always at your side, but to hear it now – to hear that he'd felt this way, even as children – left you speechless. 

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing lightly over your skin as he stared into your eyes. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he murmured, voice shaking with emotion. "Longer than I even understood."

His confession hung in the air between you, soft and fragile, yet so filled with meaning it made the weight of his feelings unmistakable. You could see it in his eyes – the years of unspoken longing, of a quiet yearning that had finally spilled over.  

As Jacaerys held you, his breath fanning over your lips, you became aware of the subtle scent clinging to him – the faint, calming fragrance of freshly picked lavender, mingling with the salty tang of the sea. It was an unexpected but gentle contrast, delicate yet grounding. The lavender must have been tucked in his pocket, its presence weaving into the natural scent of him, a gentle reminder of the day you told him it suited him.

Jacaerys’ thumb continued to trace slow circles against your cheek, his eyes still fixed on yours with a look so tender it made your heart ache. The lavender lingered, soft and sweet, mixing with the warmth of his body, the salt of the sea. It was intoxicating, wrapping around you like the feel of his arms, like the weight of his confession.

In the quiet of your chambers, with the soft glow of candles casting a warm light around you, you and Jacaerys held onto each other, savoring the start of something new, something that had been years in the making. And somewhere in the distance, as if sensing the shift in the very air around you, you could have sworn you heard the contented rumble of a dragon, approving of the love that had finally been acknowledged between its rider and the one who had stolen both their hearts.

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[writtenapoiogy]

consumed by flames; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: bathtub funtime 18+

word count: 2.0k

warnings: nsfw. 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, porn w lil plot, bathtub sex, jacaerys is a pleaser, jacaerys loves wife!reader and creating heirs, fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, slight a little more than slight choking, breeding kink, slight dirty talk.

a/n: briefly proofread yet again it is 1am almost 2 and i've been up since 5am yesterday but i had to get this out 😁

You and Jace had just come back from a ride on Vermax. After the war, life on Dragonstone had been peaceful for a short while. Sometimes you wish you and Jace could lock yourselves away at Dragonstone and just kick everyone else out. That sadly, was not possible.

It had been a couple of months since Queen Rhaenyra took her rightful seat on the Iron Throne.

Which means the two of you were also still newlyweds.

Due to the war, You and Jacaerys had to wait to wed, which was dreadful for both parties. Once Rhaenyra had her coronation your wedding ceremony soon took place.

Within the two months since You and Jacaerys spent half that time at the Red Keep enjoying the celebrations and helping get Jace’s younger siblings settled in.

Nearly every day following your wedding, you and your husband had laid together. Every time better than the last.

You and Jacaerys had only been back at Dragonstone for roughly two weeks. The first week was spent wrapped in each other’s warmth. The smells of sex never leaving your chambers. Jacaerys was a man on a mission. He constantly wanted to please you. Teasing you till he knew he was the only one that could satisfy you the way you craved.

After that pleasure-filled week, everything sort of died down. You and Jace had been busy with the tasks of being the Prince and Princess of Dragonstone. A weight you were not expecting to be hit with.

Your handmaiden had drawn you a bath to rid you of the sweat and scent of smoke that seeped into your skin. You were about to take off your robe and step into the hot water when your husband walked through the door.

“Jacaerys?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in your husband clad in a robe. “My husband, if you also wish to bathe I am sure we can get someone to draw you one aswell.”

It just dawned on you that this was the first time You and Jace had been alone in almost a week. Alone. Alone without one or the other being asleep. The stresses and demands of the day taking a toll on one of you or, sometimes, both of you.

“I do not wish to bathe alone.” He glided over to you and began to untie your robe. “I do miss my wife.”

Jacaerys ran his hands down your sternum after loosening the knot. You took a deep inhale feeling his fiery touch against your ice-cold skin.

“I keep my bath water quite scalding, my love. I do not wish to harm your skin.”

Jacaerys looked at you with a smirk. “You know the words of House Targaryen. I am Fire and Blood. Warm water will not harm me.”

Jacaerys was right about one thing. He was Fire and Blood. Everything he did set you ablaze. From the way he spoke to the way he looked at you. Oh, gods, and his touch. It was like his hands were made of molten lava. A beautiful contrast to your frigid skin. His warmness brought a sense of comfort to you.

“How could I forget.”

Jace’s lip twitched into a smile. He loved you with his entire being. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He placed his lips on yours in a sweet soft kiss. “Let me help wash you.” He spoke against your lips

“As you wish, my prince.” You stole another kiss from him. Missing his soft lips.

He pushed your robe off your shoulders and watched it cascade to the floor. You breathe in a sharp inhale as your body gets overtaken by the chill in the air. Your nipples harden and Jace cannot take his eyes off of them, even if he tried.

He offers his hand and you gladly take it. He walked you over to the tub not letting go till you had both of your feet in the water. Jace went to grab the new lavender soap that was imported specifically at your request.

As he walked back towards you, you couldn’t help but notice the tent in his robe. Seeing that made you feel an ache deep inside of you. An emptiness that you need to be filled.

“Just lean back, let me take care of you my sweet.”

Jacaerys wet the bar of soap and lathered it onto his hands. The sweet and calm scent engulfed his sense of smell. He set the soap down and began washing you. He started at your neck and shoulders slowly and firmly massaging the soap into your skin

He did this across the entirety of your body. Jace’s touch brought your body aflame. He was avoiding the parts of you that craved his touch, intensely. You let out a low whine when his hands ran down your side lightly passing over the sides of your breasts. The slightest brush and this man had your body consumed by flames.

You heard a light chuckle from behind you. “Do you find something amusing, Husband?”

Jacaerys shook his head, “Not at all.” He placed a wet kiss on your neck, inhaling your lavender-infused skin. He ran his hands back up and cupped your breasts this time, you couldn’t help but moan.

“Jacaerys…”

And his hands went back down this time spreading your legs apart and you felt the air leave your lungs.

“Jacaerys..”

He was dragging his hands close to your heat. It was right there. And just when you thought he was going to help dull this ache, he withdrew his hands, again.

“Jace, please. You know what I crave. Why are you withholding it from me.”

“Because it is fun.”

You could feel his sly smirk against your neck.

“Say please.” He demanded, his hands cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples. He was making it incredibly hard to focus on anything.

“Plea-.”

“In High Valyrian.”

He had been getting you to learn High Valyrian. Something about you knowing his mother tongue made him swell with pride. It made him feel as though it would make your family stronger once you have children.

Also, he found it very very hot.

“Kostilus.”

“Hmm, that’s my girl.” Jacaerys brought one hand to your cheek turning your face to his, to take your lips in a fiery heat.

As soon as his mouth hit yours, your own fell agape. You craned your neck desperately wanting to feel his tongue against yours. Oh, how you both missed this. Feeling so needy for each other. Your tongues lapped at the other. You let out whines and whimpers into his mouth.

His right hand stopped toying with your nipples and slid down to your core. Jace rubbed light circles against your clit, eliciting a moan from deep inside your chest. His hand that was on your cheeky slowly slid down your throat till he wrapped his long fingers around it. This made you break away from the kiss. His amber eyes had such a dark look in them. As if you too lit him aflame.

Feeling him around you like this made you dizzy. Engulfed in his smell. In his heat. The fire in his blood.

When Jace thought you had had enough torture he slid two digits into your entrance, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“Fuck, Jace.” Your head lulled back onto his shoulder. You kept eye contact with him. Jace felt some precome leak from his throbbing cock as he looked at you like this. Spread out for him. Slowly grinding your hips down on his fingers. He added a bit more pressure around your neck. Watching as your mouth fell open, you tried to get some more air in your lungs. Solely depending on him for your air, for your desires, for everything.

He kept pumping his fingers into you a such a slow murderous pace. You don’t know how he does it but he had you shaking on the verge of your climax in mere minutes. You were squirming, moaning his name and a litany of curses. You pulled your hand out of the bath water and threw it into his curls. A guttural moan left your lips when the pads of his fingers hit that soft spot deep inside of you.

You came around his fingers with a deep mewl gripping and pulling his hair in the process. The act caused him to whine in your ear. It had been too long. He kept pumping his fingers into you bringing you down from your high. He removed his other hand from your neck and was rubbing you anywhere his hand could reach as he whispered in your ear in High Valyrian. Telling you how good you did.

Somehow in your daze, you understood him.“Get in here with me, please. I wish to feel your skin against mine.” You breathed.

Jacaerys is quick to shed his robe. He pushed you forward slightly and climbed in right behind you. He situated you so that he was able to rub his cock threw your folds. Your chest pressed against his back. You sigh at the feeling of his warm body against yours.

You began to rock your hips, feeling his cock rub through your slit with ease. You heard him breathing heavily in your ear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You tried to speak and tell him how desperately you craved for him to be inside of you. But all you could do was babble. The sensation of his tip as it hit your clit over and over again.

“I know, you do not have to say it. Gods, I know.” Jace lifted you up just enough to position himself at your entrance. He swiftly wrapped his left around around you and slowly eased you onto his cock.

You both gasp when he’s fully seated within you. The head of his cock mushed against that spot again. He somehow always knew how to get to it. Jacaerys, with one hand on your ass cheek and his other wrapped around you, slowly lifted you before he slammed you back down on him. A whimper left your lips, your hands flew to the sides of the bath to prepare yourself for his onslaught.

Even when he was going harder or faster he still managed to fuck you with so much love and tenderness.

Jace began slow. Let you get used to him inside of you again. His pace, which quickened by his third deep thrust, had you saying his name in a tantalizing prayer. He kept going constantly hitting your gspot over and over again. The repetition. The mere torture against your most sensitive spot had you reeling.

Water splashing.

You two moaning each other’s names.

And the smell of lavender and sex was all-consuming to the both of you.

You didn’t know what kind of sounds were leaving your mouth nor did you care. Right now all you cared about was that your sweet husband was finally back inside of you. Pleasing you the way you loved. The way he always does.

Your hips bounced with his movements out of pure instinct. “Jacaerys. Please.” You didn’t even know what you were pleading for at this point. But he did. He coaxed you into your second climax of the night. This one hit you hard. Drenching him in your release. You could feel yourself pulsating around his cock. Begging him to come inside of you over and over again.

Jace groaned at the sensation of you coming around him. “Oh you’re gonna look so perfect when my seed takes. When you get all plump from having our heir inside of you.” He kept pumping into you. His thrusts now getting erratic.

“Yes, Gods, please.” You said in a satisfied gasp.

Even his seed was hot. As he came inside of you, you felt his searing essence flow into your cunt. You bore yourself down on him. You wanted nothing more than to keep all of him come inside of you. You wanted to give him an heir. You needed it. You needed his seed to take. The thought of you carrying his child mixed with the feeling of his come leaking out of you had you coming again.

“Fuck.” Jacaerys leaned his forehead against your back as he caught his breath. “We should take more baths together.”

You chuckle, “Oh but how will we ever keep clean, my prince.”